


And the World Keeps Spinning

by Jajajaja



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-11 12:55:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11148852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jajajaja/pseuds/Jajajaja
Summary: A continuation of Shameless from around season 5/6. Set about two to three years after that. Focuses on the relationships between the characters. Basically what would happen if Shamless just let them live their lives instead of all these horrible outside forces controlling them.Also, don't be alarmed if the timeline isn't perfect. If the writers can fuck with the timeline for the sake of storytelling, why can't I?





	1. Chapter 1

A crisp wind blew through the morning air. Mickey shivered against the cold and cursed himself for not grabbing the giant green jacket hanging on the hook by his front door. He reached into his front pocket for a pack of smokes. He lit one, hoping that the tiny torch could warm him slightly or at least distract him from the cold. Such was the price of cut-off shirt sleeves and looking badass.

The Gallagher house came into view. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the house, Mickey took a minute to finish his cigarette. He tossed the butt there, grinding it into the ground with the heel of his boot.

Mickey climbed up the front steps and let himself into the house. It was early and there was no point in knocking; the door was unlocked anyways. He shook his head to himself. These damn Gallaghers were too trusting in this shithole of a neighborhood. Sure, the Milkovich house was never locked, but anyone with the stones to break into there deserved a medal for bravery—maybe for stupidity too.

The living room was a controlled chaos—all the crap that a family of six (sometimes seven or eight) had managed to acquire but never throw out. He looked around for a box labeled Lip & Ian Baby Clothes. Fiona had promised Ian a box of old baby clothes that Liam had most recently grown out of. He stood in the middle of the living room slowly making a 360 degree turn as his eyes flicked over every inch of the room. On the floor next to the front door he spotted a cardboard box. Of course, it was right there.

  
He picked up the box and set it on the coffee table. Riffling through the contents he saw a couple of pairs of pants, some shirts, and a winter coat. Coats were expensive as hell, so Yevgeny was a lucky little shit.

  
He held out one of the t-shirts and inspected the graphic print on the front. It seemed like a knock-off Spongebob, but they didn't really get the face right because this motherfucker looked creepy as hell. _Or maybe he'd always looked like that?_ It wasn't like Mickey had much experience with kids shows.  
Lost in thought, Mickey was abruptly brought back to the present by faint noise in the kitchen. He felt his back pocket for the brass knuckle he always carried. He stepped towards the kitchen ready to face the intruder, recognizing the absurdity in him, a sort of intruder, getting ready to fight another intruder.  
From the connecting doorway, he saw Debbie sitting at the end of the table by the window, quietly finishing her cereal and fiddling with her phone. Glancing up, she gave him a small wave with her spoon and went back to her breakfast. Mickey breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't really in a fucking people up kind of mood this morning. Mickey raised his eyebrows in her direction as an acknowledgement. He grabbed an Oreo from the pack on the counter and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. Ian always gave him shit for the way he ate Oreos. Ian was one of those assholes who yanked the cookie apart, licked the icing, and ate the chocolate part separately. _Who the fuck has time for that?_

Mickey spotted a relatively new issue of Guns and Ammo on the table, so he grabbed the pack of Oreos and sat down across from Debbie. All the issues at his house were old as shit, so excuse him for taking the opportunity to stay informed.  
As he flipped through the magazine, he felt Debbie's eyes on him. He did his best to ignore her, but he looked up just as she flicked her eyes back down to her phone. He stared at her for a second before letting his eyes wander back down to the page. Again, he felt Debbie's eyes boring into his skull. He jerked his eyes up at her and she startled, trying to look anywhere but at him. Assuming Mickey would have gone back to the magazine, she looked back at him to find that he was still looking at her. They locked eyes, neither willing to blink and lose this strange sort of staring contest. Debbie felt her eyes water and she noticed Mickey's nostrils flaring ever so slightly.  
Abruptly, Mickey stood up. Debbie winced at the sound of his chair squeaking against the floor, forgetting the contest. Mickey smirked, "You lose," and made his way back into the living room. Debbie huffed in annoyance and followed him.

  
"Hey, Mickey," she said getting his attention, "what are you doing here at _three_ in the morning?"

  
"First of all, Shortcake, it's six. Complain to your brother for me having to be up here at the ass crack of dawn. Second..." Mickey was interrupted by a wail coming from upstairs.

  
"Can you just hold that for one second?"Debbie said, holding a finger up and already climbing the stairs.

  
Mickey's eyebrows danced in bewilderment. He crossed his arm impatiently. After a minute he picked up the box, ready to leave the house. He wasn't going to stand around like some bitch.

The crying subsided and Debbie's loud footsteps came down the stairs. She bounced Franny in her arms and shushed at her soothingly.

  
"Hey, where're you going?" she asked stopping his escape. "What were you doing?"

With his head, Mickey indicated the box in his arms as an answer, giving Debbie a pointed stare.

  
"What? What does that mean?"

  
"Fiona got some shit outta the attic for the kid. Winter stuff."

  
"Oh." Debbie nodded as she continued to bounce Franny. "What're you guys up to?"

  
"The fuck, Red?" Mickey asked irritated.

  
"I don't know. What're you guys doing for the rest of the day?"

  
"And this is your fucking business because..."

  
"I don't know... I thought... I thought maybe Franny and Yev could play together. They're cousins. I want her to know her family."

  
Mickey didn't want to deconstruct the bomb that was that sentence, but he figured that he could probably pawn the baby meat onto Debbie if she came over.  
"Whatever. Drop by later. Svet has me with the kid all day."

  
Debbie flashed him a grin. "Great."


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey trudged back to his house, weighed down by the box in his arms. He stomped up the stairs and fumbled at the doorknob with his hands still occupied. With some maneuvering he finally managed to open the door. He spotted Ian hurriedly striding around the house.   
"Hey, man," Mickey said as he passed Ian.

Ian paused his search to walk over and kiss Mickey on the corner of his mouth. "Hey, Mick." Mickey smirked   
He made his way into the kitchen and plopped the box onto the dining table. Svetlana looked up from where she was supervising Yevgeny's eating. Oatmeal was nasty. It didn't matter what Ian said. _It's healthy, Mick. Don't you wanna live a long life? It's not even that bad_. Sure it was healthy but at what cost? It was fine for Yev though. It's not like he knew what he was missing.

  
Mickey opened the box and held out some of the clothes against his own chest for Yevgeny to see. At the sight of a red shirt he giggled and made grabby hands.

  
"That one."

  
"Jesus Christ. Even the kid's a fucking commie."

  
Svetlana glared at Mickey and crossed her arms. "I work today. You watch baby, remember."

  
"Yes, I remember. Jesus."

  
"No bullshit about baby."

  
"He's not even a bab—" Mickey was interrupted by Ian's presence.

  
"Look, Yevy, I found it." He handed the boy the squirrel hat from Mandy's uniform at the Waffle Cottage. No one really had any use for it anymore, but Yev had taken a strange liking to the thing. It mostly just reminded Mickey of Mandy, which made him a little sadder than he was willing to admit.

  
"Cute shirt, Mick. Looks great on you," Ian said pointing at the red shirt with a puppy on the front.

  
Mickey raised his middle finger in response.

  
"Got class in like an hour and work the rest of the afternoon," Ian said, "so I'm not gonna be home either. You're on your own, tough guy."

  
"Don't worry about it, tough guy," Mickey retorted.

  
Within about an hour, Mickey found himself alone with the kid. He sat Yev on the couch next to him and turned on the TV, flipping until he found some cartoons. It was Family Guy, but it's not like the kid would complain. At least now Mickey wouldn't have to be bored out of his mind. The kid sat quietly watching the TV.

  
Soon Yev got up and wandered away into his and Svetlana's room. He came back with one of his old, battered children's books and set it on Mickey's lap. Reluctantly, Mickey lowered the TV's volume and opened the book. He did the voices when he read and Yev always got a kick out of that. The kid was pretty easy to please and this was something Mickey could do. The rest of the morning passed without incident. Yevgeny took a nap at some point, giving Mickey a chance to clean his gun while he watched some Maury. Sue him for wanting to watch people have more fucked up lives than his. Yevgeny eventually woke up and settled back into the living room with Mickey. The kid fiddled around with his toys and mostly kept himself busy.

  
               ..........................

  
Debbie stood outside the Milkovich house with Franny in one arm and her baby bag in the other. She wasn't sure whether to knock or to just let herself in like Mickey had this morning. She rapped on the door with more confidence than she actually had.

  
"It's open," Mickey yelled from the couch.   
Debbie opened the front door and stepped inside. The house was a lot cleaner than she had anticipated. A lot cleaner than the last time she'd been here, which admittedly, had been a long time. 

  
"Hey, Mickey. Hey, Yev," she said, making her way over to one of the chairs in the living room and setting down her bag.   
Yevgeny came over to her and poked Franny's hand. Franny's eyes followed him with rapt attention. "That's a baby," he said.

  
"You're right, Yev. This is Franny. Can you say Franny?" she cooed. 

  
Franny grabbed his finger.

  
"Hi, Franny," he said tentatively.

  
Debbie waved Franny's other hand at him and Yev giggled, covering his mouth with his unoccupied hand. He continued to watch her, but soon Franny lost interest. Yevgeny went back to whatever he had been doing. Debbie heard him make whirring sounds as he flailed his arm around. He returned with three empty plastic water bottles.

  
"I maked smoothies," he claimed proudly, handing one bottle to Debbie and another to Franny.

  
"Oh, that's so sweet, Yev. You *made* smoothies," she corrected, trying to discreetly free the bottle from Franny's iron grasp. Yev was a cute kid and all, but she did not know where the bottles had been and she did not want them near her baby's mouth. For all she knew, one of Mickey's druggie brothers or their skank girlfriends had used it. Debbie tipped the bottle up near her lips, pretending to drink.

  
"That's yummy! What did you put in it?"  
Yevgeny pulled the bottle from his mouth and bounced in place excitedly. "I put bananas and strawberry and orange and blueberry and... and pineapple and mango and..." he trailed off. "Een shows me," he said, excited again. "Een puts green stuffs in his smoothie and that's yucky! Dad thinked it's yucky too. And Mama says..." and then there were a bunch of words in what Debbie could only assume was Russian. *Who knew the kid was so talkative?*She glanced over to the couch to gauge Mickey's impression of the conversation only to find that she was alone with the babies. Mickey sat at the kitchen table making little stacks of cash and occasionally jabbing at his calculator and making notes.

  
Debbie fumed at her apparent abandonment. "Whatcha doin?"

  
"Don't worry about it, Red."

  
"Um, okay... Do you wanna... maybe we could take the kids to the park. It's usually empty right now because everyone's in school."

  
"Great. Yeah, take the little shits to the park," Mickey huffed waving her away.

  
"What? No, I meant we go to the park," Debbie said motioning at everyone in the room.

  
Mickey huffed a laugh. "Yeah, sure, in your fucking dreams. Not standin around freezing my balls off outside just so the kid can get fuckin' hepatitis from that nasty ass park."

  
Debbie rolled her eyes. "Yeah well it would be nice for Yev."

  
"I don't need you telling me what to do with my fucking kid, okay. Would you just—I'm tryna work," he said gesturing at the piles.

  
"Okay. Jesus. Calm down." Debbie wandered back into the living room and sat down on the floor next to Yev. Soon, he swept her up into his play-pretend world.

  
Mickey glared at Debbie from the table. Who the fuck did she think she was? Just like all the rest of those damn Gallaghers, always thinking they were better. As if they weren't the same white trash from the same neighborhood as everyone else.

  
              -----------------------

  
The front door swept open to reveal Joey chuckling and Iggy close behind him.   
"...and so I told him, if you don't quit bothering this bitch, you know the bouncer's gonna fuck you up." Iggy paused and chuckled. "But the bitch didn't even call the bouncer. She just starts wailin in him. And what does this asshole do? He tries to fucking run. Like he forgot he's 100 pounds overweight and hasn't jogged a mile since before fucking Dick Cheney was president."  
Joey and Iggy stopped by the door, taking their coats off. Something was different. Joey nudged Iggy with his shoulder and they walked over to the table where Mickey still was.   
Mickey was distracted from his work by his brothers' towering from across the table. "Jesus. What'd you douchebags want?"

  
"Oh, sorry, Mickey," Joey teased, "I didn't realize we were interrupting your tea party."

  
Joey matched Iggy's smirk, obviously pleased with himself.

  
"Look, man, I got her watchin' the kid, okay. Why the fuck wouldn't I go for that?" Mickey wrote some final things down and pushed two of the stacks towards his brothers. "For last Thursday."  
The brothers snatched up their cash and promptly counted it.

  
"Why are those piles bigger than mine?" Iggy complained.

  
"Because you were just a look out, asshole. What, you don't even trust your own fucking brother? I could have the kid doing what you do. Just take the cash and scram," Mickey said making a shooing motion.

  
Iggy put his hands up in surrender. He and Joey turned to go down to their rooms in the basement. It was a shithole like the rest of the house used to be before Mary Poppins and the whore got in here, nagging him. _Sometimes the dishes needed to fucking soak, okay!_

  
"Mickey," Debbie said getting his attention loudly from the doorway. "Bye."  
He looked up and gave her a curt wave.

  
"Bye, Yev," he heard her say.

  
"Bye!"

  
The front door shut and Mickey felt a tug on his sleeve. "I want food," Yevgeny proclaimed.

  
"Okay, what do you want?"

  
"I don't know."

  
"You don't know."

  
"What do we have?"

  
"The same things we always fucking have."

  
"What's that?"

  
"Kid," Mickey said tersely, about to lose his last nerve. Yevgeny blinked at him unperturbed.

  
"You're having mac 'n' cheese," Mickey said with finality.

  
"Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

Debbie dropped off the bag at home then made the short walk over to the elementary school. She and Fiona had an arrangement now: Debbie did the housework and brought in some cash to cover Franny's extra expenses, while Fiona brought home the big bucks. Their relationship had gotten a little strained with this whole Franny business and sure, maybe Debbie was starting to see that maybe she was a little at fault too. With Carl at military school, Ian playing house with Svetlana and Mickey Milkovich, and Lip wrapped up in his own shit like usual, she had to make a fragile peace with Fiona. Liam wasn't yet quite the conversationalist a teenage girl could hope for.

  
Liam ran over to her and Franny.

  
"Hi, Liam. How was school today?"

  
"Good," he shrugged.

  
"That's good."

  
They headed down the side walk. When they reached a busy intersection, Debbie shuffled Franny in her arms and held out a hand to Liam. "I'm not a baby," Liam said crossing his arms.

  
"I know," Debbie placated. She shuffled Franny back to her other side. Franny made baby sounds and poked Debbie's cheek. The sharp stabbing reminded her that she needed to cut Franny's nails. "Can you hold Franny's hand for me? She's a baby and you're her big uncle."

Liam considered it for a moment then nodded.

"Okay, just be gentle."

  
They crossed the street and continued home. Franny yanked her hand from his light grasp. She gnawed on her knuckles and slobbered. Liam studied her curiously, sticking his thumbs in the shoulder straps of his dinosaur backpack. Liam really liked dinosaurs.

  
When they got home, Liam kicked off his shoes next to the door and ran into the kitchen. Debbie kicked off her own shoes and followed him. He struggled onto the kitchen counter and opened the cupboard. He scooted as close as he could then extended his arm up, reaching around for the box of fruit snacks. He knew better than to stand on the counter after what had happened the last time.

"You know you could just ask me to get it for you," Debbie said placing Franny in the playpen. She grabbed a pack of gummies and presented it to Liam. He grabbed it and hopped off of the counter, running back into the living room.  
Debbie rolled her eyes and went over to empty the dryer. Lip's clothes were done. She transferred a combination of Liam and Franny's soggy darks to the dryer and dumped Fiona's laundry into the washer along with some of her own. After starting both machines, she cranked her neck into the living room to see Liam playing with some of his toys and Franny drooping in the playpen. Debbie picked up the laundry basket and climbed the stairs. She dumped Lip's clean laundry onto his bed. She wasn't a maid.

Back downstairs she picked up Franny and rocked her as she ambled around the house. Within a few minutes she set Franny down upstairs in her crib and was ready to start dinner. "Liam, 30 minutes and then homework time, okay?"

  
"Okay," he yelled, and went back to his toys. Debbie thought first grade homework was bullshit, but whatever, at least it kept him busy.

  
Debbie got out the one of the big dishes from the cupboard. She was making a casserole—Sheila's recipe. God she missed Sheila.

  
\-----------------------

  
That night, Ian stepped into the house and hung his big green jacket on the hook next to the door. He walked behind the couch and bent down, pausing to bury his face into the side of Mickey's neck and place a quick kiss there.

Mickey stiffened slightly, then relaxed, remembering that this was okay, that this was a thing that happened all the time. He felt Ian linger and take a deep breath. That fucker thought he was smooth, but Mickey could tell that Ian was smelling him. _No one had less chill than Ian Gallagher._

  
Ian plopped down onto the couch next to Yevgeny. "Hey, little man. Watchin' TV with Dad?"

"Yeah. That's Blue." Yevgeny pointed at the TV. "That's Jimmy."

"Think his name is Steve, bud. Mick," he said turning to Mickey, "I didn't know you liked Blue's Clues so much."

  
Mickey looked at him from the corner of his eye and held up his middle finger.

"We were about to find out what the third clue was, douchebag."

  
Yevgeny held a finger to his lips and shushed Ian loudly, as though Yevgeny himself had not been talking a second ago. Mickey grinned smugly at Ian, who held up his hands in surrender. Not nearly as enthralled with Blue and her adventures, Ian stood up to smoke a cigarette in the kitchen.

Ian looked over the bills and papers on the kitchen table. He took the wad of cash out of his pocket and counted it again, writing the number down. He deposited the cash into the lock box on the table inside the envelope labeled _Gallagher_. 

  
"How was it today?" he heard Mickey call from the couch.

  
"Eh, pretty good. Got enough for a coat for Yev."

  
"We got that covered. There was a coat in with all the shit Liam outgrew."

  
"When'd you get time to do all of this?" Ian asked gesturing at the table as Mickey walked into the kitchen. 

  
"Your sister dropped by."

  
"Fiona? Really?" Ian asked, surprised. Ian was always welcome back at the Gallagher house, but Fiona avoided Ian's house like the plague.

  
"Nah, man, gingerbread."

  
"Debbie?" he asked more confused."What was she doing here?"

  
"Dunno. Shit."

  
Ian let the topic drop. Mickey was clearly uncomfortable. "We got any food?"

  
"Why don't you check for yourself, asshole?"

  
"How old's this?" he asked holding up the pot with left over mac 'n' cheese.

  
"Made it for Yev's lunch."

  
Ian shrugged and pulled out a fork from a drawer. Mickey shook his head at him. Ian indicated the mac 'n' cheese with his fork, silently asking if Mickey wanted some. He scooped it onto the fork and swirled the fork in the air enticingly, his eyebrows raised in question.

  
Mickey scowled, grabbed his own fork, and stabbed into the pot. They ate silently, Mickey occasionally blocking Ian's fork with his own, trying to antagonize him. Ian just smiled.  
He set the empty pot into the sink and went over to the couch. Yevgeny's eyes were steadily drooping.

  
"Hey, little man. Ready to sleep?"

  
Yevgeny nodded and stifled a little yawn and held his arms up.

  
"Come on," Ian said picking him up. He deposited Yevgeny into the bathroom. Yevgeny rubbed his eyes and stood on one of the precarious stacks of magazines in the bathroom to reach his toothbrush.

  
Mickey leaned against doorway and watched them. Ian had always been great with Yevgeny. Probably because there were always a million kids in the Gallagher house—neighborhood kids, daycare, actual Gallaghers.

Yevgeny finished his bedtime routine and held his arms up to Ian. Ian lifted him with a small "oof." "Gettin' big," Ian said. He set Yevgeny down on the flowery comforter of Yevgeny and Svetlana's shared bed.

  
Yevgeny crawled under the covers and reached for the squirrel hat. Ian smiled down at him and tucked the covers around him. Mickey watched them silently from the doorway.

  
"Night, Yev," Ian said sweeping the wispy bangs out of his face. Yevgeny' hair had been getting steadily darker. Ian suspected that it would soon end up the same shade as Mickey and Mandy's.

  
"Night, Een. Night, Dad," Yevgeny said looking past Ian.

  
"Night, Yev."

  
Ian turned off the lights and closed the door behind him.

  
\---------------------

  
Svetlana opened the front door letting in a gust of cold air. She spotted Ian and Mickey on the couch engrossed in whatever was on the TV.

  
"I bring dinner," she said holding up a large plastic bag full of takeout containers. "You go get idiots from downstairs."

  
Ian shot up at the promise of food and Mickey ambled over to the basement staircase. "Dinner, assholes," he shouted.

  
"Jesus, Mick, you're gonna wake Yev."

  
"You know the little fucker could sleep through the apocalypse." It was true; he had, if you considered a drug-fueled rager with Iggy and Joey's friends an apocalypse, which Mickey did.  
At the kitchen table, Svetlana and Ian were methodically unpacking and arranging the boxes of food. Joey and Iggy thumped up the stairs, grabbed their food and disappeared as quickly as they came. Ian, Mickey, and Svetlana took their plates over to the living room—Mickey and Ian on the couch, Svetlana in the chair. They were watching Die Hard for the ten millionth. At this point even Svetlana could recite most of the lines from memory.

  
Ian and Mickey scarfed down with their food quickly. "Quit being such a dick," Ian said as he tried to grab one of the five egg rolls on Mickey's plate.

  
Mickey defended his food with his fork. "Get your own." Whenever it was Svetlana's night for dinner, it was always pretty decent. Sometimes she cooked. Sometimes, she had this deal with some chick that she worked with maybe. He didn't fucking know. The point was the food was good.

  
Pretty soon Mickey and Ian set their plates on the coffee table. Svetlana picked at hers slowly. She'd seen Nika earlier that day. It still stung. Nika was back to working for Sasha now and she hadn't seen her since the break up.

The night wore on. At some point Die Hard 2 had started and no one made any move to change the channel. Mickey sat on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table and a pillow in his lap. Ian laid parallel to the couch with his head on the pillow. Mickey's fingers trailed absentmindedly through the red hair, scratching lightly at Ian's scalp. He loved Ian's hair with no product—wavy and curly and free.

  
When Did Hard 3 started, Svetlana got up and picked up the plates, throwing them away in the kitchen. Mickey heard the bathroom door close. Later Svetlana's light footsteps disappeared into her bedroom and her door opened and closed. Mickey shook Ian's head and his eyes blinked open.

  
"Come on, princess, let's go."

  
Ian grumbled noncommittally then stood up and stretched his arms over his head. Mickey packed up the leftovers from dinner, while Ian washed up the few dishes in the sink.

As they made their way out of the bathroom, Ian stood behind Mickey, slouching against him. When they reached their room, Ian pushed his hand down the front waistband of Mickey's sweatpants.

  
Mickey slapped at his arm. "Would you stop. You're dead on your feet. Just gonna leave me hanging _again_."

  
"Aw, come on, Mick, that was one time."

  
Mickey huffed. "Yeah maybe one time this week. But who knows it's only Tuesday."

  
"You know that's an exaggeration," he said grabbing at Mickey's dick.

  
"You're is an asshole," Mickey said shoving Ian lightly.

  
Mickey climbed into bed and Ian followed. Ian curled up behind Mickey, placing an arm over his waist and hugging him close. "Sure you don't want Daddy to wreck you?" he whispered.

  
"Would you fuck off with that," Mickey grumbled. "I don't know what kinda shit your sugar daddies got off on, but please leave that shit far away from here."  
Ian chuckled and trailed his fingers up and down Mickey's chest. He closed his eyes and was out within the minute. _Of fucking course_ , Mickey thought to himself. 


	4. Chapter 4

Debbie plodded down the steps, brushing a few stray curls out of her face. She started the coffee maker, made her cereal and sat at the kitchen table. Debbie wasn't naturally a morning person but this was the only me-time she could manage to get. Her breakfast was interrupted by Franny's cries. She picked her up, finished her breakfast then went back upstairs to wake Liam.

  
"Hey, bud, school time," she said gently shaking him. He flipped away from her and whimpered.

  
"C'mon, you know the drill." She tickled his foot and he tossed sharply onto his back. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at her. He sat Franny down lightly onto his belly, still supporting her weight. Franny shrieked and made a grab for his curly hair. Liam batted her away gently as Debbie lifted her up.

  
Liam slowly put on his clothes as Debbie dressed Franny.

  
He went to the bathroom to find the door locked. He knocked softly. Debbie came up from behind him and pounded on the door.

  
"Lip! You know you can't lock the upstairs bathroom in the morning. You want privacy, take your ass downstairs."

  
"Debs, good morning to you too." He grinned opening the door and making a sweeping motion with his hand, like a king welcoming her into his bathroom kingdom. She huffed and rolled her eyes. _These idiots would be the death of her._  

  
She quickly brushed her teeth, handed off Franny to Lip, and washed her face with her two hands now free. She left Liam in Lip's care and went downstairs to start breakfast and pack everyone's lunches.

  
"Mornin, Debs," Fiona said, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. She flashed her a smile that didn't quite reach he eyes.  
Debbie worried about Fiona but maybe not enough. And that wasn't her fault. She had Franny, she had herself, and in many ways, she had Liam to worry about. Besides it's not like Fiona treated her as an equal anyways. "Hey."

Debbie pulled the pack of frozen waffles out of the fridge and popped some into the toaster. She dropped the loaf of sliced bread onto the counter and took out three slices, lining them up. A slice of cheese, some ham, lettuce and tomato went onto the bread. She spread mayo onto two more slices of bread then topped each of the sandwiches. Fiona didn't do mayo anymore because _it's not good for you, Debs_. Debbie rolled her eyes internally. Sure it might be healthier but at what cost? She cut each of the sandwiches in half and put them into baggies, which she then put into brown paper bags along with whatever else was around. A tangerine here. A pack of fruit snacks there. A couple of cookies maybe.  
Liam and Lip thundered down the stairs with Franny in tow. Lip snagged a toasted waffle and snatched up a bagged lunch. He made a move to hand Franny to Fiona. "I gotta get dressed," she said and disappeared upstairs.

Lip gave Franny to Debbie and picked up his messenger bag. He gave Debbie, then Franny, then Liam each a quick peck on the cheek. "Bye, Fi," he shouted up the stairs. He turned out through the doorway, stuffing his lunch into his bag, the waffle hanging from his mouth.  
Debbie fed Franny her breakfast--something called harvest squash turkey that she'd found coupons for.  
Debbie picked up a Liam's lunch and they headed over to the elementary school with Franny in tow.

  
\--------------------

  
"Bye, Yevy. Be good today, okay," Ian said, ruffling Yevgeny's hair then fixing it again.

  
"Bye, Een."

  
"Bye, Svet," Ian said pecking her on the cheek. He stepped over to where Mickey was pouring a mountain of sugar into a mug of coffee and gave him a long lingering kiss, followed by a quick peck.

"Bye, Mick." Ian left.

  
"Zhenya go to play with baby friends today. I take him to Big Papa and V."

  
"Why the do you still call him Big Papa?! It's creepy as fuck. And the kid ain't a baby anymore."

  
"I want Yevgeny to know real man."

  
"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" Mickey asked already on the defensive.  
Svetlana smirked then shrugged her shoulders. Getting a rise out of Mickey was one of her few pleasures in life and it was almost too easy.

  
"We watch Gemma and Amy later in week. Is fair."

  
"Yeah whatever." He still didn't understand what had gone on between Kev, V, and Svetlana. He wasn't sure he wanted to understand.

  
Today was Mickey's day at the rub 'n' tug. Svetlana sometimes worked at this salon owned by some Russians, so Mickey had to deal with the whores. It really seemed like the world's oldest profession would have been sorted out by now but there was always some problem. Maybe the roof was leaking. Customers wanted more privacy. Some guy refused to pay because he came too quickly. It was a fucking headache and a pain in Mickey's ass. He'd rather let Svetlana deal with it. She'd promoted herself to manager anyways and she was just better with the whores.

Entering the Alibi, Mickey nodded at Kevin in greeting and walked up the stairs.

  
\--------------------

  
Debbie pushed her cart through the large automatic doors of the Food4Less. Franny babbled excitedly from her perch on the child's seat of the cart. The wheels squeaked as Debbie went over to the produce section. She held up an apple and smiled at Franny. "Can you say apple? Apuuulll," she enunciated.

  
"Puhhh,"Franny responded.

  
"Eh. Close enough."

  
Debbie wound her way through the aisles. Generic sports drink for Fiona, animal crackers for Lip, the vanilla ice cream she'd promised Liam. Debbie stood in the checkout line studying the gossip magazines stuffed in next to the last-minute gum and candies. Apparently Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber were back at it again, and J Lo had lost 10 pounds in 10 days. _Thrilling_. 

  
A tired looking old woman waved her forward and Debbie began setting her things down on the conveyor belt.  
"Good morning," croaked the old woman--Marisol according the her name tag.

"Good morning." Debbie watched Marisol slowly and mechanically scan her items. _Damn it_. She'd forgotten something. "I need to grab milk," she said leaving Franny and dashing back into the aisles. The neighborhood wasn't _that_ bad. Okay, maybe it was, but Marisol would keep Franny safe. Marisol glanced up uninterested.

Debbie slowed to a quick walk and strode into dairy aisle. A young guy with jet black hair and a red Food4Less shirt saw her.

  
"You looking for one of these?" he asked holding up one of the gallons of milk he had been stacking.

  
"Um, yeah," Debbie said tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking down to hide her blush. He was cute—really cute—with his almond eyes and his perfect lips pulled into a lazy smile. "I realized forgot to grab some by the time I was already at the checkout. It's so embarrassing."

  
The guy, Ethan, smiled kindly at her rambling. "Well it just so happens I was headed that way myself." He swept his arm out gesturing towards the register. "After you, my lady," he said still holding one of the gallons. Debbie blushed more and started walking. Ethan followed closely next to her, his arm brushing hers every so often.

  
Marisol glared when Debbie came into view and muttered something under her breath in Spanish. "Took you long enough," she told Debbie.

  
Ethan set the milk down on the conveyor belt and looked from Franny to Debbie then to Franny again. He couldn't seem to meet Debbie's eye after that and he slowly backed away from the scene. Debbie felt a small part of her crumble. Sometimes she forgot. A baby was a death sentence and if she couldn't even manage to keep the kid's father, what hope did she have of getting someone new. Sometimes she felt bad for herself and resented Franny, which made her feel even worse. She pulled out her coupon folder and began picking through it.

  
\-------------------

  
"Hey, V," Debbie greeted walking into the Alibi and setting Franny's carrier down on the bar.

  
"Debs, how's it goin?"

  
"Oh, ya know. You?"

  
"Just switched off with Kev. His turn taking care of the little she-devils and the Milkovich spawn."

  
"Mickey here?"

  
"Upstairs I think. Why?"

  
"Just wanted to say hi," Debbie said already trailing towards the stairs.

  
V looked at Franny and shook her head. "Your mama...."  
\---------------------  
Debbie spotted Mickey leaning in a doorway. Faint moans and the occasional grunt emanated from the room.

  
"Hey, Mickey."

  
Mickey jerked his head back then nodded his chin at her. He turned back to supervising. Debbie stood against the wall opposite Mickey.

  
Mickey stood up straighter and planted himself in the middle of the doorway. A portly man with thick blond scruff approached him. Mickey looked the man up and down with a scowl. "Come back soon," he said then moved aside to let him out the door. Mickey followed the man with his eyes to find that Debbie was standing there.

  
"You lookin to get hired or you here for a rub? 'Cause I'm pretty sure only Svetlana specializes in vag and she ain't here so you're shit outta luck." Debbie gaped at him and felt herself blush.  
Encouraged by her discomfort Mickey continued. "I mean I think Raisa dabbles if you slip her an extra ten." Another man stepped to this doorway-- this time with a cropped Afro and tiny spectacles. Mickey repeated the same song and dance.

  
"Nika... that bitch could munch a rug," he said wistfully. "Didn't really appreciate it much when she's doin it in my house, but at work... shit got me money. Diversifying and all that."

  
Debbie stood frozen against the wall. She wasn't really sure what the appropriate response to your brother's boyfriend explaining the ins and outs of his prostitution business to you was.  
"Almost think the wife pushed her out so she'd have a monopoly on all the muff rollin into this joint but the bitch barely even works anymore." Mickey looked Debbie up and down and she squirmed under his stare. "You looking to get into the pussy game?"

  
Debbie was shocked into speech. "Ian would kill you."

  
"What Gallagher doesn't know won't hurt him."

  
Debbie opened and closed her mouth like a fish. Mickey chuckled then smirked. "Considered it for a second didn't you," he declared, smirking. "Whadya want, Red?"he asked impatiently.  
"Just wanted to say hi."

  
"You said hi. Goodbye."

  
Debbie racked her brain for any topic of conversation. What did Mickey Milkovich even like besides boning her brother and apparently torturing poor teenage girls. "Umm... how's business?"

  
"Good."

  
"How's Yev?"

  
"Good."

  
"How's Ian?"

  
"Ask him yourself. He's _your_  fucking brother."

  
"Uhh... you guys coming to family movie night on Sunday?"

  
"Didn't realize we were invited."

  
"Yeah, of course. Every Sunday," Debbie said ignoring the fact that it has been ages since the last movie night and that she hadn't spoken to anyone from the Milkovich family probably since the Fourth of July. "You guys should definitely come."

  
"We're busy," Mickey said abruptly. 

  
"Well, uh, try. Try to make it," Debbie said nodding encouragingly.

  
Mickey shrugged at her and another john made his way out. Debbie stood there for a beat then followed the john down the stairs.

  
\--------------------

  
The backdoor swung open and Fiona stepped into the house. "Brought dinner," she shouted.

  
"Awesome, Fi," Lip said jogging down the stairs. He peaked into the bag. "Hot dogs. Nice."

  
"Thought you were healthy now," Debbie said crossing her arms.

  
"Well, you know," Fiona shrugged, "all we can do is try right?"

  
"I already made chicken though."

  
"That's fine we can have it tomorrow."

  
Debbie grumbled under her breath and made a grab for the bag. "Come on, Liam. Dinner."

"Can I eat my ice cream now?" Liam asked poking Debbie's arm and bouncing in place.

  
"Did you finish your homework?"

  
"Yeeeeesss," he said throwing his head back to look up at her. He continued to bounce in place, gently twisting from side to side.

  
"Fine, after dinner, but leave some for me."

  
He nodded and unwrapped a hot dog, stuffing it onto his tiny mouth.

  
"You're being gross. Slow down would ya?"

  
The four of them sat at the kitchen table eating quietly. The two empty chairs mocked them. Liam finished his hot dog first and shot to the freezer. Cup of vanilla ice cream in hand, he went back to the TV in the living room. The three remaining siblings worked on their second hot dogs.

  
"So I was talking to Ian this morning after our run," Fiona said breaking the silence. "Said him and Yev might come to movie night on Sunday," she said turning to look at Debbie.

  
"Yeah," Debbie said defiantly staring at Fiona's eyebrows. She couldn't quite make herself look her in the eyes.

"Ugh, that shit again?" Lip frowned as he lit a cigarette. "Great, so now we gotta look after the demon spawn for a couple of hours."

  
"Is Mickey coming?" Debbie asked ignoring Lip.

  
"I mean I don't understand why Ian lets them use him like that," Lip continued unhindered by the lack of response. "Too nice for his own good."

  
"Sooo..."

  
"I don't know, Debs. Ian didn't say. Probably not, right?"

  
"I hope not. Last thing we need around here. I still don't get what Ian sees in him. He's throwing his life away over in that shithole."

  
"Jesus, Lip," said Fiona shaking her head.

  
"Does it take extra effort or are you just naturally an asshole all the time?" Debbie said facing Lip.

  
He raised his hands in surrender as he shuffled into the kitchen. "I'm just saying."

  
"So what're you thinkin of making?" Fiona asked.

  
Cigarette hanging out of his mouth, Lip opened the fridge grabbing three beers in one hand and the ice cream from the freezer. He came back to set the things on the table. He took one last drag from the cigarette then put it out in the teddy bear shaped ashtray in the middle of the table. Their center piece was courtesy of Monica during one of her many apology tours.

  
Lip snapped his fingers and went back into the kitchen to grab three spoons. He slid one to each of his sisters and cracked open his beer. He took a long pull then lifted the lid from the ice cream. He sloshed some of the beer into the container and mixed it in with his spoon. He noticed that Fiona and Debbie had stopped talking and were watching him, horrified.

  
"What?"

  
"Is that what they taught you in college?" Fiona asked.

  
"Actually, yeah," Lip said digging out a big spoonful. Debbie and Fiona just continued to stare. "Come on, how can you know you don't like it?"

  
Debbie held out her spoon and cautiously took a tiny bit of the concoction. She tasted it slowly; it wasn't terrible. Lip nudged the container towards Fiona.  
"Ah fuck it," she said. Tasting it, she screwed up her face. "Ugh, this is disgusting. How do you eat this?" Lip chuckled as Fiona reached back for more.

  
"Time to get ready for bed, Liam,"Debbie shouted from the table.

  
"Twenty minutes," he shouted back.  
"Five."

  
"Nineteen."

  
"Zero."

  
"Fifteen," he countered.

  
"Ten."

  
"Okay."

  
"Quite the negotiator that one," Lip chuckled.

  
"Shut up," Debbie said reaching for more ice cream.

  
Fiona twisted the cap off of one of the beers. "You sure about this family dinner thing?"

  
"Yes and I expect all of you to be there."

  
"I'll try my best, Debs."

  
"And not acting like assholes," Debbie said giving Lip a pointed glare.

  
"I don't know if he can contain himself," Fiona said with a laugh. She took a sip. "It's a serious condition. We should be supporting him."

  
Lip laughed and raised his middle finger at her.

  
"But seriously don't ruin this" Debbie said.

  
Lip nodded. "Yeah."

  
They sat quietly for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Liam's shouting broke the silence. "I'm ready."

  
"I got it, Debs," Fiona said, gently touching her hand and walking away.  
Debbie looked over at her brother. "So how're you?"

  
"Good, Debs. You?"

  
"Good."

  
Debbie wasn't really sure what Lip was up to anymore now that he had spectacularly crashed and burned out of college. She didn't understand it. He'd been handed a golden ticket out of the Southside and he couldn't manage to hack it. It didn't make sense to her. Lip was a genius. If he couldn't make, what hope did she have. She used to look up to them— her big brothers. She still did, but with fate and genetics torching Ian's dreams and Lip seemingly failing out of his, she couldn't help but wonder what was the point. She couldn't keep herself from hoping though. That was the worst part. She couldn't stop herself from dreaming that maybe one day Derek would come back to her, and she wouldn't have to live here anymore, and she'd have a nice house, and a nice job, and Franny would be happy, and she'd still see her family. Maybe it was a lot to ask for but she still hoped.

  
The two of them finished the ice cream and Debbie stood up to throw it away. She waved a goodnight to Lip and walked up the stairs. She heard the fridge jingle and the unmistakeable sound of another beer cracking open.

  
\----------------

  
"Someone get the door," Fiona shouted from the kitchen.

  
"I got it," Lip said, getting up from the couch and hoisting Franny from his lap onto his hip. He swung the door open. "Well if it isn't thug baby and baby thug."

  
"Go fuck yourself," Mickey grumbled with a scowl.

  
"Charming as ever."

  
"Hi," Yevgeny said shyly. He stood behind his dad wrapping one of his arms around Mickey's leg.

  
"Hey, there, kiddo," Lip said moving out of the doorway and expecting them to follow. Yevgeny looked up tentatively at Mickey who nodded at him, signaling that he should go inside.

  
"Where's Ian?" Lip asked shortly.

  
"Mickey!" said Debbie brightly as she came down the stairs. "I didn't know you were coming."

  
"I'm not. Just came to drop off the kid. Said he wanted to see the baby."

  
"Hi, Yev," Debbie said sweetly,"remember me?"

  
"Dad," Yevgeny whispered, pulling on Mickey's shirt, "I have to tell you a secret." Lip smirked as Mickey crouched down to Yevgeny's height. "What's that lady's name?" Yevgeny whispered loudly.  
Fiona walked into the living room wiping her hands on the thighs of her jeans.

"Hey, guys. Where's Ian?"

  
Lip stared at Mickey expectantly.

  
"Got pulled into a shift, but he said he'd try to come later. I gotta run though so..." he said turning toward the door, "be good, kid."

  
"Bye, Dad," said Yevgeny, unbothered as he wandered off to find something to do.

  
"Wait, Mickey, you should, um, you should stay," Debbie said walking after him.

  
"Got shit to do," he said. "See ya, Red."

  
"But... bye," she said waving lamely at his retreating form.

  
"See, I told you. We got stuck with the kid," Lip said, setting Franny down in the the playpen.

  
"Yeah, well, fuck you, Lip," Debbie said, angrily stomping to the kitchen.

  
"Great. Let's eat then," Lip said pulling out a fork and making a move for the lasagna cooling on kitchen counter.

  
"No," said Debbie, smacking his hand away, "Ian's still coming later."

  
"That was just a maybe," he said, still reaching for the lasagna only to be stopped by another smack.

  
"No, he's coming."

  
"Sure, Debs, of course he is," Fiona said placatingly.

  
"Yeah, I know," Debbie said, picking up Franny and stomping upstairs. She realized that she was essentially pouting, but she couldn't help it. She hated it when Fiona treated her like she was five. She wasn't five. She was a mother; she had a job; she was responsible; she kept the house running. She wasn't five.  
Back downstairs, Fiona sighed and was met with an apologetic shrug from Lip. She couldn't do anything right when it came to Debbie.

  
Lip sank his fork into the corner of the now unguarded lasagna only to have his hand slapped by Fiona.

  
"What!?"

  
"Ian might come."

  
"You two are ridiculous," Lip said abandoning the fork and returning to the TV.

  
\--------------------

  
Ian walked through the backdoor of the Gallagher house and towards the living room. Several heads turned towards him. They were watching _Jurassic Park_ , probably at Liam's request. "Hey, guys," he waved from the doorway. They waved back.

  
Yevgeny bounced up from where he was sitting on the floor with Liam and ran over to hug him around the legs. "Een!"

  
"Hey, Yev," he said picking him up and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  
Liam walked over and attacked Ian with a hug too. He didn't run though; he was cool.

  
"Hey, Liam," Ian said, putting Yevgeny down and running a hand over Liam's head.

  
"I told you," Debbie said smugly to Lip.

  
"How ya doin, sweetface?" Fiona asked cupping Ian's cheek.

  
"I'm really good, Fi," Ian smiled.

  
"Great, let's eat then," Lip said grabbing Ian by the shoulders and guiding him into the kitchen. "Almost starved to death waitin for your freckled ass."

  
Ian laughed, lifting the salad from the counter and placing it on the table. Fiona had the lasagna right behind him.

Dinner was a flurry of commotion and laughter—multiple conversations running and weaving together at the same time. It was nice. It almost felt like old times and Debbie, for the life of her, could not remember why they didn't do this all the time. Liam had run off at some point to finish the movie, Yevgeny trailing behind.

Debbie returned from the kitchen with a plate of cookies. Her siblings reached quickly towards the plate.

  
"We're thinkin of putting Yev in Headstart," Ian said around a mouthful.

  
"Oh, that's great," Debbie said.

  
"Yeah. Kid's smart and it'll probably be fun for him, ya know, hanging out with other kids."

  
"True," Fiona agreed.

  
"Don't know what I would've been doing if I wasn't just getting into shit with Lip all the time."

  
Lip chuckled fondly at the memories flipping through his head. "Yeah, then your boyfriend won't be dumping his kid on us like today."

  
"Didn't think you'd mind watching your nephew," Ian said.

  
"He ain't my nephew."

  
"Well, he's my son. That makes him your nephew, genius," Ian said.

  
"He's not your son."

  
"Fuck you. He is my son."

  
"No, he's not, Ian."

  
"You gonna pretend that blood makes a family now?"

  
"He's your boyfriend's kid, not yours."

  
"So what adoption doesn't mean shit? Love doesn't mean shit?" Ian asked, his voice rising with each question.

  
"No, I—"

  
"Why is it okay for you to wanna raise Karen Jackson's half-Asian retard baby, but Yevgeny's not my son? Huh?"

  
"That kid isn't your responsibility, Ian," Lip said evenly. "His dad didn't want him, but that doesn't make him your responsibility; it doesn't make him yours."

  
"Fuck you,"Ian enunciated, "you don't talk about Mickey. You have no fucking idea."

  
"Ian, you have a huge fucking heart, but you don't have to do this to yourself? You don't have to live in that hole."

  
"You mean my house?"

  
"No, this is your house."

  
"Well I've been living there for like a year. I think that makes it my house," Ian said growing more defensive.

  
"You win, okay? Shithead obviously cares about you, but he's not good enough for you. He's not good enough for you and—"

  
"Why not?"

  
"You're throwing your life away—"

  
"Why isn't he good enough?" Ian demanded, standing up, "huh? Why?"  
Debbie remembered why they didn't do family dinners.

  
"He's a criminal," Lip insisted, "and he isn't doing shit with his life."

  
"You're one to talk," Ian said with dark chuckle, "you've been arrested God knows how many times too. You just got out of it with your grades. And how's college going, huh?"

  
"Fuck you," Lip said, standing and shoving Ian.

Ian shoved back. "Can't take it?"

  
"You don't get it,"Lip said.

  
"No one gets it. Poor Lip. Gets all his dreams served to him on a fucking platter."

Fiona and Debbie watched their brothers, silently munching on the cookies.  
"Just because you got dealt a shit hand doesn't mean the rest of us didn't too," Lip said angrily. "You're not the only only one with shitty genes."

  
Ian held up his hand and opened his mouth, ready to give Lip the verbal smackdown of the century. Instead he turned abruptly towards the living room. "Come on, Yev, we're leaving—"

  
"Of course," Lip said grabbing Ian by the arm, "Ian Gallagher's running away."

  
"Get off me, Lip. I don't wanna do this."

  
"Oh you don't? Think you can kick my ass, big guy," Lip goaded. Sometimes Ian forgot that Lip knew where all of Ian's buttons were hidden, and how hard to press them.

  
"What do you think I learned in the army?"

  
"You were never in the army," Lip sneered, "Phillip Gallagher was in the army."

  
Lip felt his face explode with pain as Ian's fist collided with it. Fiona and Debbie stood watching theme with wide eyes. Lip chuckled and wiped at his mouth, feeling the blood trickling in his mouth. Lip growled then lunged at Ian. The sudden move startled Debbie and Fiona into action and they jumped to get in between the brothers rolling around on the floor.

  
"Ian! Stop," Debbie shouted trying and failing to lift Ian off of Lip.

  
Fiona joined in, trying to stop the flying fists. "You guys, there are kids here," she said, knowing full and well that they had seen much much worse by that age.  
They rolled around on the floor, thrashing at each other—their faces pulled back in snarls. They make have been in their twenties but they were still siblings after all. Lip got in a few good punches, but Ian was obviously winning. Sometimes Lip forgot that Ian had been in ROTC; and that he exercised everyday; and that he was bigger than him and stronger than him; and that he wasn't his scrawny little side kick anymore. Eventually Ian relented. He stood up, touching around his eye and wincing. Ian extended a hand down to Lip and hoisted him up.

Observing the fragile ceasefire, Debbie opened the fridge to retrieve a bag of frozen vegetables and a bag of frozen blueberries. She tossed one to each of her brothers.

  
Ian stalked out of the kitchen and to the back steps— one hand pawing at the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, the other holding the make-shift ice pack to his face. The door slammed behind him. Lip turned to follow Ian.

  
"Really, Lip?" Fiona sighed.

  
"Calm down. I'm just gonna apologize," Lip said waving her away.

  
Ian was standing on the small landing and leaning against the railing, occasionally taking puffs from the cigarette dangling between his fingers. Lip stood next to him and leaned against the railing. He held his hand out, asking for the cigarette which Ian gave him. They smoked it down and Ian produced another cigarette.

  
"I'm sorry," Lip said into the night air.

  
Ian huffed a laugh. "No you're not."

  
"I'm not."

  
"Still think you're right."

  
"I do."

  
"I don't need you to understand my life, Lip. Just need you not to shit on it every chance you get."

  
"But—"

  
"No," he said shaking his head, "I know you've done a lot for me. And I know that I've been in a lot of shit, but you have to trust me."

  
"Ian—"

  
"No, just let me get this out. I know you've been looking out for me since always, but you have to let me look out for myself too. You have to let me make my own choices. And their not the same choices as yours, Lip, because we're not the same person. I love Mickey and I love Yev. Fuck, even Svetlana." Ian took a deep breath, spilling one's guts wasn't easy. "Why'd you have have to say that shit about Yev? You didn't," he said answering his own question. "I just...you gotta respect me, Lip."

  
"Okay," Lip said, "but am I supposed to just sit around and watch you fuck up?"

  
"I don't know. Maybe? Yes? Or maybe don't be such an ass when you try to help."

  
"We look out for each other, Ian," said Lip, still unconvinced, "if I don't tell you when things are going to shit, who will?"

  
"Mickey, Svet, shit maybe Kev and V, Fiona... you're not like the Southside Savior or somethin'. We don't need you to save us."

  
"Yeah. Yeah, you do. I gotta save you guys from yourselves."

  
"No one's asking you to. Deal with your own shit before you come and try to tell me how to live my life."

  
"Why'd you gotta be so stubborn, man?"

Ian sighed. "I'm not being stubborn."

  
"That's what a stubborn person would say," Lip said trying to lighten the mood.

  
"Fuck," Ian breathed, running a hand through his hair.

  
"How long've you been holding that one in for?"

  
"I don't know. I just didn't wanna hafta sit around fuming until the next time I see you."

  
"We never see you anymore," Lip murmured.

  
"I see Fi when we run. Liam sometimes. Kev, V , the girls. I talk to Carl."

  
"Yeah, but _I_  never see you."

  
"Well you know where I live."

  
"You know where I live too," Lip countered.

  
"You know," Ian chuckled, "and I'm there right now."

  
"Fine."

  
"I'm still here for you, you know, if you need me. I'm here when you're ready to talk."

  
Lip nodded and held the cigarette out to Ian.

Ian shook his head. "Finish it." He clapped Lip and the shoulder and Lip winced. Ian drew his hand back quickly, remember the bruises that both of them were already getting. He saluted silently at Lip and slipped back into the house. He found Debbie and Fiona trying very hard to look not like they had been listening at the window.

  
"Night, Debs. Thanks for dinner," Ian said hugging her goodbye. "Bye, Fiona."

  
He set the melting bag in the freezer and moved to the living room to say good night to Franny, who was entertaining herself with the toys on one of those roving baby seat, and  Liam who he found asleep on the couch with Yevgeny. He found Yevgeny's sneakers on the floor and gently put them on his feet. He lifted the boy and adjusted the blanket more over Liam. Ian walked out the front door.  
He heard the whine of police sirens and then the occasional thundering of the L as he trekked closer to home.

  
Yevgeny was getting more and more awake with every step. He lifted his head up from Ian's shoulder, staring at the side of his face. He couldn't see much of the damage in the dark.

  
"Can I sit on your shoulders?" he asked quietly.

  
"You sure you're not too tired?"

  
Yevgeny nodded against Ian's face. Ian lifted him up and set him on his shoulders. His body ached but he couldn't say no to the kid. Yevgeny grabbed gentle fistfuls of Ian's hair.  
"Will my hair be like yours when I grow up?"

  
"Um, I think your hair's gonna be like Dad's. Black."

  
"Okay," he said still running his finger through it.

  
"Ouch!" Ian said jerking his head.

  
"Sorry," Yevgeny mumbled.

  
"You know, when you were a baby your hair used to be blonde like Lip's. Blonder actually."

  
"I want my hair to be all the colors. Purple, green, yellow, blue..."

  
Ian laughed. "Just like Mand—" he stopped himself. "Just like a rainbow."

  
"Yeah!"

  
Ian plodded up the steps and let Yevgeny off of his shoulders. Ian opened the door.

  
"I don't wanna brush my teeth. I'm tired."

  
"Okay, but just tonight," Ian said. He was tired too. "Good night."

  
"Good night," Yevgeny said, already in his room.

  
Ian went into the kitchen to get some water. He padded into the living room to find Svetlana there watching her Korean soap operas. He took a quick breath, startled by her presence. He'd been too absorbed in his own thoughts.

  
"Christ," she said taking in his disheveled form and injured face. "You put my Yevgeny in danger," she demanded, remembering where he had been.

  
"No, of course not. I would never," Ian said.

  
Svetlana raised a perfectly sculpted eye brow at him. Ian winced remembering that godforsaken trip to Florida. "I wouldn't," he insisted, "I love him. You know I've been doing everything—"

  
"Relax, Howdy Doody," she said, "I know. Is good to remember sometimes, no?" With that, she turned back to her soaps.

  
Feeling the tiredness soak deeper into his bones, Ian decided to turn in. He was gonna forgo brushing his teeth but couldn't go through with it because he really was a Boy Scout no matter how much he protested. While in the bathroom, he cleaned off his injures and took an Advil. He was real good at swallowing pills now.

  
He collapsed into his bed and snuggled into the covers. He hugged Mickey's pillow close to his body. Mickey was working right now and the pillow was a poor substitute, but it had to do.


	5. Chapter 5

With some pleading and some bribing and a tiny bit of threatening, Debbie had managed to get Lip to watch Franny for her on a Saturday night. She'd grabbed her sluttiest clothes and a curling wand and headed over to Kev and V's.

She knocked on the door. A tired looking V opened it. Shrieks and giggling escaped from behind her. No wonder V called Amy and Gemma the twin she-devils. "Maybe you can save me," V said turning back into the house. Debbie followed her, closing the door. "What's up, Debs?"

"I'm going out."

"I can see that," she said gesturing at the heels in her hand.

"I need you to make me hot," Debbie said seriously. "

Fiona not home?"

"Um... little sister, you know. It would be awkward. Actually, it'd be great if you wouldn't tell her," Debbie said hopefully.

"No can do, babe. Best friend," V said pointing at herself, "contractually obligated to tell Fi everything."

"Yeah I get it," Debbie said."So can you help?"

"Of course," V said as if there could ever be a question, "come on, girls. We're makin Aunt Debs hot."

The girls cheered and followed their mom up the stairs, climbing as fast as their little legs would let them. Debbie laughed and followed. She hoped that she and Franny would have fun together in the future.

Debbie sat on the closed toilet lid as V applied her makeup. Amy and Gemma played nearby, smearing old lip stick and eyeshadow on each other's faces. "That's gonna be a bitch to clean up," Debbie observed.

"At least it shut them up for a while," V said pressing on false eyelashes.

"You sure it's not too much?"

"Would you just shut up and let the master work."

"Yeesh, sorry."

A few minutes later, V stepped back to inspect her work. "What do you think, girls?"

"She looks like a princess!" Gemma said.

"She looks like a mermaid princess," Amy amended.

"I already said she looks like a princess. You can't copy me."

"I didn't copy you."

"Mom! Amy's copying me."

"No I'm not."

"You are," Gemma whined.

"You are."

"Stop it."

"Stop it."

"Mom! Make her stop!"

"Mom! Make her stop!"

"See the shit I gotta deal with," V said to Debbie. "Be glad you only got one."

"Stop!" Gemma said, on the verge of tears.

"Stop!" Amy said.

"Amy's stupid."

"Amy's—" Gemma crossed her arms and smiled smugly. Victory in hand, she ran out of the room.

"Gemma, wait," Amy said running after her.

"I swear to God they're trying to kill me," V groaned packing up the make up. "You good?"

"Yeah," Debbie said fluffing her newly curled hair, "thanks, V. This looks great."

"Where're you going?" "I don't know. Somewhere northside. I just wanna have a good time."

"Well don't have too good of a time. And don't be stupid. Don't do any thing that..." V paused trying to think of a responsible person. She flicked through the members of the Gallagher family and friends group. Nope, no one responsible. "Well... ask yourself what would Frank do and just do the opposite. You should be fine."

"Gee, thanks, V."

V rolled her eyes. "Go get 'em. Oh, and wait," V said slipping something into Debbie's front pocket. Debbie pulled it out. It was a small sleeve of condoms.

"Really, V?"

"Look, I know Fi doesn't really want her baby sister fucking around but I know she wants you to be smart. Really doesn't want any more Gallagher babies so... proceed with caution."

"I'm an adult, V. I buy my own condoms."

"Alright, alright. Just helpin a girl out, okay."

"Okay," Debbie said with a laugh.

"It's weird seeing you old."

"Yeah, maybe. Thanks again."

"No problem," V said as Debbie made for the door. "Don't be stupid!" she called after her.

"Got it, mom!" Debbie yelled cheekily.

\---------------------------

Debbie took the L over to the Northside. She had a vague idea of where she was going. She let her feet carry her wherever they thought she should go. She was alone which wasn't great, but she had mace and her phone and that baton that Mandy had given her all those years ago and a borderline homicidal will to live. Eventually, she found a club that was maybe the one she had in mind. She wasn't twenty-one but double-D Debs had no trouble getting into these trashy clubs. Those tits were like a fucking magical key. At least she could thank Monica for that.

Once inside, she let herself get lost in the pulse of the music and the heat of the crowd. She didn't dance that much because she was still Debbie and she was still self conscious, but she watched and bopped to the music. She let guys buy her drinks because why not. Someone tall, dark, and handsome had been liquoring her up for the past hour, but she could feel herself being stupid. She needed to get home. "I gotta split," Debbie said giving the guy a warm smile, "thanks for the drinks."

"Aw, come on, just stay for a little while."

"Thanks, but I really should get home."

"Already? I thought we were having fun," tall, dark, and handsome pouted.

"No, I gotta—"

"What, bitch, you think you're too good for me?"

"No, I—"

"Why'd you have me buying you drinks then, huh? Didn't your mama ever tell you it's not nice to lead a guy on?" the guy demanded, gaining more steam. Debbie gaped at him, afraid to stand still, afraid to make too sudden a move. "It's always cunts like you that—"

"Oh my gosh, Melanie?!" some girl with dark curly hair and perfect make up squealed at her.

"Nicole, look it's Mel! Remember Mel?" she asked the Barbie-come-to-life standing beside her.

"O. M. G.," Nicole pronounced with dramatic pauses. "What are the chances?"

"Umm..." said a very confused Debbie.

The first girl wrapped Debbie in a very dramatic hug. "Just play along," the first girl whispered in her ear.

"This place suuucks," Nicole said,"we were just gonna leave. You should totally come with us Mel!"

"Oh, hi," said the first girl to tall, dark, and asshole. "We're gonna leave."

"Um..." he said, just as disoriented and confused at what had just happened.

"Let's go, Mel," Nicole said grabbing Debbie's hand and with that they led her away.

Once they were outside, Debbie yanked her hand from the girl's and looked fearfully between the two girls. "I think we went too hard on this one, Teresa," Nicole said to the dark haired girl. "Might've broke her."

"Nah, she's fine. Right, girly?" Teresa said turning to Debbie.

"Um..." Debbie said, uncertain whether this was the start of a kidnapping in her somewhat intoxicated state.

"I'm Annabelle," Nicole said with a hint of a southern drawl, "this is Teresa. We just saw douchebag bothering you and we had to help a sister out."

"Thanks...?" Debbie said still confused.

"What'd you think? Pretty convincing right?" Teresa asked. Debbie nodded slowly and unsurely.

"Aw, sweetheart," Annabelle said with a laugh, "we were just about to head over to Boystown. It's this one's turn to pick the club." She jabbed her thumb over towards Teresa.

"You should come with us for real though," Teresa said throwing an arm over Debbie's shoulder and already leading her.

"Oh yeah, what's your name, Mel?" Annabelle asked.

"Debbie."

"Cute," she replied. "What're you doing alone, Debbie?" Teresa asked.

"Trolling for dick, obviously," Annabelle said giggling.

\----------------

They hopped from bar to bar. Debbie didn't know these girls but it was fun to hang out with someone new, someone that wasn't her family. They'd traded phone numbers and eventually parted ways at some lesbian bar. Debbie was a sleepy drunk, but Annabelle and Teresa were getting more and more hyped. She sat at the bar glancing into the sea of women and dancing bodies on stages. She felt a man sit down next to her. _Of course these assholes could smell the straight on her._

"Well, well, well, looks like I wasn't that far off," the guy next to her said.

She turned to face him. "Mickey?"

"Willing to munch rug on your own time but not mine. Gotta say it kinda hurts."

"No, no, um yeah, but no. I was just here with some... some... Wait. Why are you here?" Debbie asked suddenly suspicious. "Does Ian know?"

"He ain't my fucking keeper. Working," Mickey said holding up the security jacket in his hand.

"Oh."

"Just leaving actually so..." Mickey said turning to walk away.

"Wait! Um, you wanna hang out?"

"No, the fuck am I supposed to do in here? The fuck are _you_ supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Dance?"

"Don't be stupid. Bitches're just as ruthless as men. Get home."

"Could you take me?" Debbie asked sheepishly, "I don't exactly know where I am."

Mickey chuckled. "What were your plans if I didn't show up?"

"Suck a dick, maybe," Debbie said blushing at her own joke.

"Great plan. Sure that'll go so well in here."

They went out the backdoor of the club and into the cold air. They walked in silence, the sounds of late-night partying filling the air. "So why do you work there anyways?" Debbie asked.

Mickey stared at her for a beat, not answering. "Your brother," he said unhelpfully.

"Ian works here?"

"No."

"So..."

"You know the Fairlytale, where Gallagher works?"

Debbie nodded remembering her and Lip's search for a wayward Ian. "Yeah."

"This is like the chick version," Mickey said ending the conversation.

They walked more and soon reached the L, standing on the platform with the rest of late-night Chicago. "I'm not gay," Debbie blurted suddenly.

"Well shit. Here I was about to throw you a fucking parade. Welcome you to the rainbow brigade," Mickey said sarcastically.

The L thundered to a stop in front of them and the two got on. They got off a their stop and continued their silent walk. "Think you can find your way home from here?" Mickey asked.

"Yeah, we're like five blocks from my house," Debbie said defensively.

"Relax, Red," Mickey said holding up his hands, "just checking."

"Oh," Debbie said, a little embarrassed. "Night."

"See ya," Mickey said as he headed in the opposite direction towards his house. Debbie reached her house and slipped in mercifully undiscovered. She peaked into Franny's crib then slid into her bed, not even bothering to take off her make up. She'd be paying for that in the morning.

\---------------------

Mickey stepped into his room and set his keys on the bedside table. They clanged together and he winced at the disruption of the quiet. The only other sounds were the occasional boom from some action movie Iggy and Joey must have been watching from downstairs. He checked Ian's sleeping form and found that he hadn't moved. Mickey tossed his security jacket onto the chair in the corner of the room and went into the bathroom, closing the door quietly. Back in his room, he took off his pants, tossing them into the opposite corner of the room where he had his unofficial dirty-clothes pile. As he pulled on the neck of his shirt, ready to take it off, he felt eyes on him. He whipped around to find Ian peering at him in the darkness.

"Ian, what the fuck?!" Ian's eyes shut quickly as he feigned sleep. "I know you're awake," he said pouncing onto the bed. He poked Ian's cheek. "Gallagher." Ian lay unresponsive. "Gallagher," he said poking again. Still no movement. "Gallagher. Ian. Ian," he said, his finger getting faster until he was just jabbing at Ian's face. Ian jumped up, opening his eyes and Mickey screamed. It was a manly scream, okay, not a little bitch baby scream. (It was a bitch baby scream. )

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Mickey demanded punching Ian's arm as Ian laughed uncontrollably. "You stare at me while I sleep and now you gotta stare at me while you sleep too? Such a creep."

"But then I'd miss the show," Ian said gathering himself a little.

"Maybe next time use your big boy words and ask," Mickey said still a little miffed but quickly warming to Ian.

"Oh, yeah?" Ian said grabbing Mickey and flipping so that he pinned Mickey's arms above his head and Mickey's body down with his own.

"Yeah," Mickey said swallowing thickly as Ian pulled close and his eyes raked over Mickey's face.

"Can I get a strip tease?" Ian asked, pressing closer and placing a kiss on the corner of Mickey's jaw.

"Fuck off," Mickey said halfheartedly as he already felt his body responding to Ian.

"Please?" Ian said, leaving more, increasingly sloppy kisses on his neck and jaw.

"You're such as ass."

"Oh yeah, babe," Ian groaned sarcastically, "tell me more sweet things." Mickey chuckled then suddenly flipped them over, pulling his shirt over his head.

\------------------

Mickey lit a post-coital cigarette and passed it to Ian. He took a puff and handed it back. They leaned against the headboard and each other, passing the cigarette back and forth. "Saw your sister at work," Mickey said eventually.

"What, why?" Ian asked confused.

"Dunno. She was just there."

"You know, I always thought maybe something was goin on with her friend Jasmine," Ian said shaking his head, "but I never thought Fiona'd go for it?"

"Fiona?" Mickey asked confused.

"Yeah, you meet Jasmine?" Ian asked facing Mickey. "Blonde, crazy, shit ton of like older dudes always following her around... ring any bells?"

"What? No, not Fiona, Debbie."

"Debbie? Why was she there?"

"Would you listen—I don't know."

"How is she?"

"How would I know?" Mickey grumbled. "It's funny. She asked the same thing about you last time."

"Last time? How often're you and Debs hanging out?"

"I don't hang out with your kid sister."

"Apparently you do."

"I do not. Would you just shut up," Mickey said gruffly.

"Nope."

"Give me the fucking cigarette," Mickey said holding out his hand.

"Nope," Ian said, smiling cheekily and passing the cigarette.

They sat in silence for a beat. "Wanna go again?"


	6. Chapter 6

Debbie took a deep breath and swung open the door to the Milkovich house. "Ian? Mickey?" she called out. She adjusted Franny on her hip and ventured further into the house.

  
"What you want?" Svetlana demanded behind her. Debbie jumped a little in surprise and turned around.

  
"Svetlana, Jesus," Debbie said putting her free hand to her heart.

  
"Big sister not tell you it is rude to break into people's house?"

  
"I was just looking for Ian."

  
"Ian is out. You know this."

  
"I forgot," Debbie said lamely.

  
Svetlana raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Husband is out with baby. They buy toilet paper."

  
"Oh, I wasn't—"

  
"They will be back in a hour maybe,"Svetlana said. "You wait here?"

  
"Oh, no, I shouldn't. I should probably get home."

  
Franny waved a fist and babbled.

  
" _Hello, baby_ ," Svetlana cooed in Russian, giving her a smile, " _aren't you a cutie. What are you saying? Huh_?"

Encouraged, Franny gurgled some more words.

  
"Franny's got a nap soon. Gotta pull the chicken outta the freezer," Debbie rambled on.

  
"Choice is yours, orange girl," Svetlana said, her face cold again and disappeared into her room.

  
Debbie looked around, at a loss for what to do. A few minutes later, Svetlana emerged dressed in warmer clothes and found Debbie still standing in the same place. Svetlana gave her pointed stare.

" _Bye, baby_ ," she said waving her fingers at Franny. Franny babbled a response, and with that, Svetlana was gone.

  
Debbie listen for an signs of the older Milkovich brothers downstairs but heard nothing. She was alone.

  
Franny really did need a nap, so Debbie set down her bag and began walking Franny around the house. When she finally fell asleep, Debbie set her on the couch and made a little barrier around her out of pillows. Hopefully, she wouldn't fall. She pushed one of the chairs against the couch for good measure.

  
For years, the Milkovich house of horrors had been somewhat of a legend in an already horrifying neighborhood. A neonazi, abusive, drug dealing dad; his drug-addict wife; a hoard of sons and nephews following in his footsteps; and of course, the baby girl: Mandy Skankovich. Debbie couldn't be blamed for the desire to snoop that came over her.

  
Checking that Franny was still secure, Debbie crept over to the kitchen. She pulled out the trash can first to look for any evidence. Of what, she wasn't sure, but every detective show she'd ever watched had taught her that you could learn the most about people through their garbage. The Milkoviches' garbage was not especially educational. There was some food, plastic that had probably been wrappers, beer bottles ( _didn't they recycle? The planet is dying!!_ ), and some papers were visible underneath. Debbie wasn't about to dig through the trash. It wasn't that serious.

She opened the fridge and found it to be better stocked than she had imagined. Next she opened a cupboard. It was filled with mugs and glasses— mismatched just like the Gallaghers'. She shut it and moved on to the bathroom.

  
She opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. A neat row of orange bottles caught her eye—each labeled Ian Gallagher. She picked one up and rolled it around in her hand, the pills clanging together. She placed it back on the shelf. _Fucking Monica_.

  
Next to the sink, she found piles of old magazines—mostly Guns and Ammo, a People or two, a parenting magazine.   
Debbie peered into the living room to check on Franny—still sleeping and still boxed in by the pillows. Debbie snuck back into the Mickey and Ian's room.   
She glanced around the room. Pictures and posters covered the walls and there were clothes littered on the ground. She opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand and found stacks upon stacks of empty and half empty cartons of cigarettes, a partially melted superhero action figure, and a red solo cup full of loose change. In the top drawer she found a few stray batteries, the largest bottle of lube she'd ever seen, a few condoms, and some other odds and ends. Debbie wrinkled her nose at the unmade bed as she moved around it.   
On the other side, she found yet another mountain of cigarette cartons in the bottom drawer of the other nightstand. In the top drawer she saw the matching jumbo box of condoms and Ian's old wristwatch. She picked it up and inspected it, finding that the screen was cracked and the buttons didn't work. Ian loved that watch; Lip had given him that watch.

  
No wonder he still kept it.

  
Debbie moved to the dresser against the opposite wall. She pulled one of the drawers and found a heap of t-shirts whose sleeves had been cut off. She recognized a few of Ian's shirts. In the drawer next to it, she saw several pairs of tiny, shiny shorts and more of Ian's clothes. In the back of the drawers, behind the shirts, she spotted a notebook. She grabbed it and carefully opened the cover. The first page was filled with wild doodles and some words in what resembled a list. She flipped through some more pages. This was Ian's notebook from his first real manic episode, she realized. Debbie slammed it shut. Ian deserved at least that much privacy. She put the notebook back and tried to arrange the clothes back to how they had been. _Whatever, it's not like those slobs would be able to tell_.

  
She opened the next drawer down. A string of large black beads caught her eye. _A rosary for giants...? Wait! No! Nope, nope._  Debbie quickly shut the drawer. She did not need to know her brother that well. _But... c'mon. Who wasn't curious about what Mickey Milkovich was like in bed?_ She inched the drawer open again. Nothing too crazy was in there— a dildo, a couple of vibrators, a pair of handcuffs. It seemed like Ian and Mickey were slowly and steadily on their way to reaching Kevin and V status.

She slowly opened the closet door and heard some objects inside rearrange themselves. A few shoes and other crap slid out of the closet. There were a pants, jackets, flannels hanging and a few empty hangers. Tucked in the corner of the closet, Debbie saw Ian's old formal ROTC coat. It was still clean and crisp. Debbie had no idea that Ian still had it.

Bored with this room, Debbie went on.  
She opened another door and was met with a dark staircase and the distinct smell of boys. _Nope_. Debbie opened the next door. The air inside was stale and it looked like nothing had been moved in a while, untouched like a shrine. Mandy's room. Debbie hesitated at the door, fiddling with the doorknob, then left.

  
The last door led to Svetlana and Yevgeny's room. _What did a possibly former prostitute's bedroom look like_? It was certainly the neatest room in the house. Cold fresh air blew in through the opened window and there seemed to be an order to things. The squirrel hat sat in the middle of the made bed. But there were a few holes in the wall—holes that Svetlana's slender hands probably hadn't punched in. This must have been Terry's old room.

  
Debbie moved towards the nightstand and noticed the blinking digital clock. Definitely more than an hour had passed since Svetlana had left. Debbie heard a fumbling at the front door and Mickey's loud voice. _Shit, shit, shit_. She looked around panicked and unsure of what to do. Debbie quietly dashed towards the window, sticking her head out to gauge how far of a fall it would be. It wasn't too bad; she could make that jump. She slid the window up until it was fully opened and scrambled to lift one leg through. _Oh, wait. Shit! Franny_! She pulled herself back in, falling on her ass with a loud thud.

  
\-----------------------

  
Mickey walked briskly, the bags in his hands slapping his thighs with every step. Yevgeny's little legs worked double time to keep up with his dad.

  
"But how come you have black hair?"

  
"Because my dad had black hair," Mickey explained.

  
"Why?"

  
"Because his dad had black hair."

  
"But I don't have black hair."

  
"Because your mom has brown hair."

  
"But Een sayed I had blonde."

  
"Yeah, when you were a baby."

  
"Why?"

  
"Sometimes babies' hair does that. Changes color."

  
"Why does Uncle Iggy have blonde hair?"

  
"Just does."

  
Yevgeny considered that silently for a minute. "Why does Een has red hair?"

  
"'Cause of his genes."

  
"But that lady in Liam's house had red hair," Yevgeny said perplexed,"and she had a dress."

  
"Not those kinda jeans, Yev."

  
"What kinda jeans?"

  
"The ones in your body."

  
"That's silly, Dad," Yevgeny giggled,"pants go outside your body."

  
"You know, you're right. Guess I forgot," Mickey said, not wanting to delve into the finer details of genetics, recessive alleles, and the rest of that Gregor Mendel bullshit.

  
"But why does that lady have red hair?"

  
" _Debbie_ has red hair because she's Ian's sister."

  
"Why?"

  
"'Cause of their parents."

  
"Big Uncle Frank doesn't have red hair."

  
"Jesus. Don't call him that. He's not your uncle," Mickey said screwing up his face in disgust.

  
"Does Een's mommy have red hair?"

  
"No, she doesn't."

  
"Then why does Een have red hair?"

  
"Dunno, kid," Mickey said unsure of how or whether to explain Ian's true lineage. He had theories about the other redheaded Gallagher too.

  
"So that lady's baby has red hair."

  
"Yes, because her mom has red hair."

  
Yevgeny abruptly stopped walking. He considered Mickey's words, trying to sort through the flood of information in his little mind. Mickey stopped and turned around to find he had lost his little shadow.

  
"Ya comin'? Pick up the pace." Yevgeny stayed still, deep in thought. "I'm gonna leave you," Mickey bluffed, pretending to walk away.

  
"No, wait! I'm coming," Yevgeny yelled, dashing to catch up to his dad.

  
\-------------------

  
They finally reached the house. Mickey tried to get at the keys in his pocket, but his hands were still occupied. "Hey," he said trying to get Yevgeny's attention,"grab the keys outta my pocket, would ya. Kid," Mickey said to Yevgeny on the step behind him. Yevgeny ignored him, still immersed in thought. "Yev. Yev," he said getting frustrated. Nothing. "Yevgeny!"

  
"Yeah, dad?"

  
"Clean out your ears for God's sake. Grab the keys outta my pocket."

  
"Okay," he said quickly climbing the rest of the steps. He reached into Mickey's pocket, pulling them out.

  
"Great, now put them in the lock and open the door."

  
"By myself?" Yevgeny asked excited.

  
"Sure."

  
"Which one? This one?" Yevgeny asked holding a key, the rest dangling beneath it on the ring.

  
"No, the next one." Yevgeny held up another key. "The next one." Yevgeny held it up.

  
"Yeah, now put the key in the top lock. No, the other top lock. Okay then turn the key."

  
"It's not working," Yevgeny declared.

  
"Push the key in more," Mickey said. "You turning it the right way?"

  
"Yes."

  
"Okay just keep trying." Yevgeny fumbled more with the key. "You want me to do it?"

  
"No, no, I'm a big kid."

  
"'Aight."

  
\-----------------

  
Debbie heard the telltale sounds of a person fumbling with a lock. _Shit, shit, shit_. For an embarrassing second, she considered leaving Franny and going back to the window, but she couldn't do that. Franny was evidence. She went back to the living room, looking around for somewhere to hide with a baby. _Shit. She still had to move the furniture back._ There was no way she could do that quietly enough not to draw attention to herself. _Oh, but wait. Sure she'd been snooping, but Svetlana had said she could wait here_. Debbie decided that her best bet would be to just act as natural as possible. She sat down on the couch next to Franny and pulled out her phone, staring at the screen, unable to concentrate on it.

  
Finally the front door opened and Mickey and Yevgeny stumbled inside. Mickey noticed the moved furniture in the living room. _Great, Svetlana was doing that funk sway shit again_. Then he noticed a redheaded Gallagher on the couch. The wrong Gallagher.

  
"What the fuck're you doing in my house?!"

  
"Oh, uh, I came to see Ian."

  
"Yeah, don't know if you've noticed, but he ain't here."

  
"Svetlana told me he was out."

  
"Then what are you still doing here?"

  
"I, um, I wanted to see if you and Yev wanna come to the park with us."

  
"Really," Mickey said hiking up his eyebrows.

  
"Um, yeah," Debbie said," you didn't wanna come last time 'cause it was too cold....it's warmer today."

  
"Really? That's what you're gonna go with?"

  
"Yeah," Debbie said more confidently,"don't you wanna go to the park, Yev?"

  
"Dad, can we go to the park?" Yevgeny asked.

  
"You can go with Debbie."

  
"No, I want you to come," Yevgeny whined. Mickey gave him an unimpressed look. "Please? Please?"

  
"Come on, Mickey, please?" Debbie said.

  
"No more outta you," he said gesturing at Debbie with one of his still-full hands. "Fine, fine," he said to Yevgeny," if it'll shut you up."

  
"Yes!" Yevgeny said, dancing around in victory.

  
\--------------

  
The park finally came into view and Yevgeny ran ahead excited. Debbie put Franny in one of those baby swings and swung her gently. Mickey sat on one of the nearby benches, one arm lazily draped on the seat-back.

  
"Dad!" he shouted from the play structure. "Can we play lava? Last time I came with Mama and Een and we played lava."

  
"My ass is staying right here," Mickey said pointing down at the bench.

  
"But, Dad—"

  
"We came to the park like you wanted. Just shut up and play." Yevgeny pouted a little.

  
"I'll play lava with you, Yev," Debbie said.

  
"Do you know how to play?"

  
"No, can you teach me?" Debbie asked Yevgeny. She made eye contact with Mickey and pointed to Franny, walking awayfrom the swings to the play structure.

  
"Okay," Yevgeny said, "so all the floor has lava, and—"

  
Mickey rolled his eyes and shook his head at Debbie. This bitch just assumed he'd watch her kid. He got up and trudged over to the swings. Bitch or not, the last thing they needed was that baby getting 'napped. He swung her a little harder experimentally. Franny giggled and waved her fists. He leaned against the swing set and watched her—happy and unaware of her shitty life. He pushed the swing a little harder, and a little harder. Franny seemed pumped. Then a little too hard. Franny's excited peals disappeared and her tiny face crumpled.

 "No, no, no. Shit! Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry," Mickey said in his best soothing voice. Franny started wailing, fat tears rolling down her face. "Shit."

  
Mickey stopped the swing and gingerly pulled her out. He held her and bounced, walking around, not completely sure of what to do. He'd seen Ian use this move on Yevgeny when he was a baby. Mickey didn't have much experience with really small kids.

  
Hearing Franny's cries, Debbie came back to the swings. Yevgeny followed behind her yelling, "Oh, no, we're in the lava!"

  
Debbie reached for Franny and started rocking her. "What did you do?"

  
"I didn't do shit," Mickey said offended at the assumption even though it was completely accurate.

  
"Well you're not tired," Debbie said looking down at Franny. "Maybe she's hungry."

  
"Maybe."

  
Franny was not too traumatized by her swinging experience. As soon as Debbie waved a stuffed animal at her, she perked up.

Eventually they had to walk back. When they reached the Milkovich house, Mickey wanted to quickly disappear inside.

  
"I gotta go pick up Liam," Debbie said.

  
"Can I go play with Liam?" Yevgeny asked.

  
"You just went to the park," Mickey said.   
"Maybe Sunday," Debbie suggested. "You could come to movie night."

  
"Can we, Dad?"

  
"We'll see."

  
"See ya, guys," Debbie said walking away.

  
"Bye," Yevgeny shouted after her. "What was that lady's name?" Yevgeny asked looking up at Mickey. Mickey shook his head. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This thing is being dumb, so imagine the things between the asterisks are italicizes.

"Mickey? Mick!" Ian yelled bursting into the house like a man on a mission. 

A muffled *what* floated out from somewhere inside. 

"Mickey?"

"Jesus. What?!"

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the crapper!" Mickey yelled back. Ian walked briskly into the bedroom and swung the bathroom door open to reveal Mickey—pants around his ankles, ass on the toilet, magazine resting on his bare thighs. Mickey startled at the sudden intrusion. "Can't a guy get a minute of privacy?" he asked a smiling Ian. 

"Sorry," Ian said, looking far too happy to be sorry. "We're goin on a date," he announced. 

"Maybe in your dreams, Gallagher," Mickey said with a huffed laugh. 

"Ugh, why do you always have to be like this? You bitch and moan and drag your little feet but you always have a good time."

"Shut up, gigantor. 'Sides, thing one and thing two offered to watch the kid. Said they wanted to spend more time with their nephew or some bullshit—"

"Those assholes!" Ian exclaimed, "do you know how much bribing I had to do? How much begging? They got me cleaning out the rotting dungeon they call a basement." Ian threw up his hands in frustration. "Offered to suck their dicks for payment but they didn't seem that interested," he said with mock confusion. 

"Can't help yourself, huh?" Mickey almost giggled.

"Thought all the Milkoviches wanted my cock."

"Just *gotta* fuck with Iggy. What're you gonna do when he finally caves?"

"Suck his dick," Ian said like it was obvious. 

"Okay enough, enough about my brothers' dicks," Mickey said waving the thought away with his hand. "Was just gonna wait for you to get home...get high...bang..."

"Great, we can do all that stuff during and after."

"Fine," Mickey grumbled. It was easier to just agree with Ian when he got all gung-ho about something. 

"Great," Ian said brightly, "knew you'd make the right choice." He spun on his heels and left. 

\--------------------

Mickey emerged into the living room. He found Joey, Iggy, and Ian sitting around the TV watching basketball, Yevgeny pacing back and forth in front of the couch chanting *go Red.* Ian's leg bounced as he sat, leaning close to the TV. Iggy turned and saw Mickey. 

"Must be date night, huh?" Iggy said smirking as he used the beer in his hand to gesture at Mickey's Hawaiian shirt. 

"Took you long enough," Ian said rising from the couch. 

"Gettin all pretty for your boyfriend?" Joey teased. 

"You can all go straight to hell," Mickey said, "Shirt's a good look." 

"If you're going to shuffle board maybe," Iggy joked. "Your AARB card come in yet, grandpa?"

"It's AAR*P*, dumbass," Mickey corrected. 

"Well, you would know, wouldn't you, Mick?"  
Joey said. Ian and Iggy tittered with laughter. 

Ever since Terry got himself 9 years, the entire Milkovich household had been able to breathe a lot easier. Mickey found that he wasn't the only one who went along with their father's orders for fear of punishment. And Ian, that asshole, had managed to win over not only these two scary motherfucker but Cold War Barbie as well. The brothers had been understandably standoffish at first, but they warmed to Ian, bonding over Mickey-had-no-idea what. Svetlana had been a little harder, what with the stuff that had happened with Yevgeny, but even she couldn't help herself. Yevgeny basically worshipped the ground that Ian walked on, and Mickey, well...Ian was right; all the Milkoviches loved that ginger asshole. 

"Fuck off," Mickey grumbled. 

"Maybe he's right, Ig," Joey said with feigned seriousness, "should leave fashion to the homo, huh?"

"Dunno, bro," Iggy said, "I mean, this one looks like he popped off a retirement community brochure."

"Still gets me laid," Mickey mumbled. 

"'Course it does," Iggy said gesturing at Ian,"that one dresses like a lumberjack. Wouldn't know a haberdashery if it bit 'im in the ass."

"Big word, Ig. Sure you know what it means."

"Fuck you. My girl wants me lookin good, I deliver."

"Who are you wearing tonight, uh? That dumpster on fifth?"

"Alright, alright," Ian interrupted pulling Mickey by the sleeve,"fun as this is, we gotta go."

"Bye, kids," Joey yelled as Mickey and Ian grabbed their coats.

"Be safe, sweetheart," Iggy added. 

"Use protection."

"Don't get knocked up."

"Later, kid," Mickey said. 

"Bye, Dad," Yevgeny replied. 

"Bye, Yev. Love you," Ian called out opening the front door. 

"I love you, Een," Yevgeny yelled back.

Ian walked out the door and started down the steps. Mickey grabbed the door behind him. Glaring at his brothers, he flipped them off, closing the door until the only thing visible in the sliver of an opening was his raised middle finger. He slammed the door shut. 

"I look good in this shirt, right?" Mickey said, joining Ian on the sidewalk. 

"You look great, you idiot," Ian said chuckling fondly at Mickey. "You always look great." Ian slowed his stride so he was a few steps behind Mickey. "I mean, check out those legs. And that ass." Ian whistled. "Kim Kardashian's got nothin on that ass." He sped up so he could grope Mickey's buttocks. "Two perfect melons, pale like the moon, soft as a marshmallow—"

"Alright, enough, Wordsworth," Mickey interrupted, "you took *one* creative writing class."

"Can't help myself," Ian said dramatically,"your ass is my muse. It inspires me."

\--------------------

Mickey stood up, reaching at Ian, still on the seat. "We're missing our stop," he said. 

"No we're not."

"Um, yeah, we are. Sizzlers's right there," Mickey said pointing out the train window. 

"Not goin to Sizzlers."

"Ugh, no. You can't make me go back to that Greek place. I don't care how much you like their chicken kabobs. I refuse; I fucking refuse—"

"Jesus. Calm down, I know how you feel about them. We're not going there."

"Where're we going?

"Surprise," Ian said smiling. 

"You know how I feel about surprises."

"Pretend to hate 'em but secretly love 'em. Yeah, I remember."

"Think you got me confused with you."

"Nope, I hate surprises," Ian said. Mickey scoffed. The L lurched, starting again. "Fine, except for yours," Ian amended. 

"So where're we going?"

"You just hate fun, don't you?"

"Ian," Mickey said in the stern dad voice he'd recently developed. 

"We're going to a new place. Heard they have really good steak."

"What's wrong with the steak at Sizzlers?"

"Nothing."

"Then why aren't we going there?"

"Because," Ian said exasperated, "last night was really good and I got some *extra* extra cash."

"Oh, yeah?" 

"Yeah, and I wanted to spend it on my boyfriend, but he's an asshole, so—"

"Which one of those geriatric viagroids was it this time? Winston or Samuel?" Mickey asked knowingly. 

"New guy, actually," Ian said. "Told me his name was Theodore."

"Alright, alright, shut up. Let me guess," Mickey said waving his hand in Ian's face. "Tall guy; white; thin nose, pointy; skeleton-lookin motherfucker; early forties; blonde hair; creepy smile; and he offered to suck you off for...uhhh...$150."  
"Yes, yes, no, no, no, yes, and such a gentleman, he offered to fuck me in his car because there was quote, 'no way he was gonna be able to come in that nasty ass bathroom'," Ian said with a laugh. "Thanks for playing; better luck next time."

"I'm getting better at this right?"

"You always guess creepy smile."

"'Cause I'm always right."

"Well they're creeps, they all have creepy smiles."

"Which is why I always guess 'creepy smile'," Mickey said. "Haven't heard about Samuel in a while. How is old Sammy? Haven't had dinner thanks to him since like June."

"How the fuck should I know what that geezer's doin when he's not drooling at the club or trying to shove his hand down my pants?"

"Fucker better remember what happened the last time he tried to grab your dick," Mickey grumbled at the memory. "That's my dick."

"Since the beginning of time, Mick," Ian joked. "I was a virgin when we met."

An older couple turned to give them the stink eye. Ian stared at them with a blank face, while Mickey gave them his best the-fuck're-you-gonna-do face. The couple quickly turned away. 

Ian chuckled and rested his hand on Mickey's knee. Mickey's hand lay open on his own thigh. Ian inched his hand towards Mickey's like he was trying not to startle a bird that had landed next to him. Mickey looked away into the aisle, pretending not to know what was happening. The only people other than the old couple were a young mother, her daughter, and a sleeping bum. Ian nudged Mickey's hand with his, carefully gauging Mickey's reaction. Mick grabbed Ian's hand and held it in between their pressed-together thighs. Ian felt a smile creep onto his face. Mickey wasn't usually comfortable with public displays of affection. Deciding to test his luck, Ian rested his head lightly on Mickey's shoulder. He saw a tiny smile grace Mickey's face; it disappeared as quickly as it had come. Mickey shrugged him off and gave him a frown. Ian knew he wouldn't be okay with that. *Baby steps *, he told himself. He'd gone from 'warm mouth' to handholding on the L. They'd get there eventually. Ian felt Mickey rubbing small circles on Ian's thumb with his own. *They'd get there eventually.*

\------------------

Much to Mickey's frustration, he had to admit that the restaurant was pretty nice. It was small, kinda dark, and the folks who owned it seemed to have kept their prices from the 90s. The bubbly young waitress (*call me Bri*) came by to set their drinks on the table. Ian held up his beer to Mickey. 

"To Theodore."

"To Theodore," Mickey repeated, clinking his beer with Ian's. Mickey took a long pull. Ian took a sip; this one beer had to last him all night. 

"So anyways, this fat fuck was tryna slap one of my girls around and—"

"Aw, Mick, your girls," Ian said with a laugh. 

"You know what I mean," Mickey said waving him away, "so I had to beat his ass and two weeks later, genius is back with his dick in his hand like nothing happened. Apparently the message wasn't clear enough last time."

"But everything else?"

"Rub 'n' tug's fine. Kev told me to tell you he misses you."

"What? I was there last week."

"Said he thinks you're avoiding him which I said was a load of crap, but—"

"Of course not," Ian said quickly. "It's not that it's just... Lip's been hanging out there a lot and... ever since—"

"Don't know why you let that asshole get to you."

"He's my brother."

"Yeah, well, I got a lotta brothers too and they're all fucking idiots."

"Lip's the smartest guy I know."

"No, he's not. Don't let him get to you, Ian. You're doing fucking amazing: school, work, Yev, and I know you don't like it when I bring it up, but your bipolar shit. You're kickin' ass. And us, right?"

"Right," Ian nodded. 

"See, fucker doesn't know what he's talking about. Had no right to say that shit to you last time. The fuck is he doin' with his life, huh?," Mickey said gaining speed. "Got his life served to him on a fucking platter and he still—"

"Okay, stop," Ian interrupted. 

"Still thinks he can look down on everyone else from his Ivy fuckin tower like he didn't just shit away his entire—"

"Mickey!" They stayed silent for a beat and Mickey cooled off from his rant. "Guess I never told him about my EMT stuff."

"Well you should. Isn't he supposed to be the book nerd anyway?" Mickey said. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"Didn't want him to know if it didn't work out."

"Well that's stupid. You should tell him. Rub it in his face." Ian shook his head. "Someone's gotta," Mickey said, reaching for another sip. 

"I think he needs help, Mick," Ian said solemnly. "He's been drinking a lot."

"Everybody drinks a lot. Neighborhood's fucking depressing."

"Like Frank a lot. I don't know what to do. Lip's always had his shit together. It's like when Fiona went off the deep end a couple winters back. No one saw it coming."

"Can't one of the other ones deal with it? There's like a million of you."

"Yeah, who? Liam?"

"Dunno. Debbie? Fiona? Point is it's not all on you."

"I know... I just... Fiona's been telling me when we jog... he needs help, Mick."

Mickey's hand twitched around his beer. He looked over at Ian's hand resting next to his beer then up to his eyes. He kicked Ian's foot softly underneath the table. The corners of Ian's mouth crinkled slightly upwards. 

\------------------

Mickey skewered the last piece of steak and shoved it into his mouth. Ian smirked at him, finishing the spinach still on his plate. 

"Told you the steak was good. Adam always knows the best places."

"Whatever," Mickey muttered around his mouthful. Even he had to admit it was worth shelling out a little extra over. 

"Can we get check, please," Ian said grabbing the attention of the waitress as she whizzed by. 

"No dessert for you gentlemen?" she asked smiling. 

"Um..." Mickey said looking to Ian to answer. 

"Actually, yeah. Why not?," Ian said. 

"Great! I'll be right back with the dessert menu," she said. "Just let me grab your plates." Bri reached for the plates then turned away. 

"You got Theo to give you *dessert* money?" Mickey asked impressed. 

"What can I say, when I shake my ass, I shake it good."

"Damn right."

A loud giggle erupted from the other side of the restaurant. The guilty party appeared to be a young woman with light brown waves, wearing a striped green dress. Across from her sat a red faced young man— one of his hands clenched the edge of the table, the other his fork. The girl smiled mischievously. A short table cloth hung from each of the tables, but the guests' feet were clearly visible underneath. One of the girl's white heels sat abandoned on the floor. She slipped her foot back into the heel and the man relaxed visibly, loosening his grip on the table. Her foot disappeared again, up and towards the young man. 

Ian looked over at Mickey, catching his eye then looking back at the couple. Mickey smirked to himself and slipped one of his feet out of his shoes. He wiggled his toes and his big toe popped out of the sock. He shoved that foot back into the shoe and slipped out the other. He lifted his foot and aimed for Ian's crotch. As he made contact, he felt Ian jump. Ian's head whipped back from where he had been watching the other couple. Mickey smirked and kept his eyes anywhere but on Ian. 

The waitress returned. "Here you go," she said placing the menus on the table. "I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

Ian gave her a sharp nod, an uncomfortable smile on his face. Bri smiled at them and walked away.   
Mickey felt Ian getting hard and grinned. He finally looked at Ian, who was trying very hard to concentrate on the dessert menu in front of him. Mickey twisted his foot to get Ian's attention. Ian looked up at him, his face already a little red. Mickey scooted his chair back and stood abruptly. He walked past Ian, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "C'mon." Mickey sauntered off towards the bathroom. 

Ian sat for a minute, cooling down. He took a deep breath and flagged down the waitress. 

"Um, actually I think we're too stuffed for dessert. Can I get the check, please?"

"Aw, you sure?" she pouted. 

"Yeah," Ian nodded. 

"Alright. I'll be back in a sec."

Ian bounced his foot waiting for her. He glanced around the room and ran a hand through his hair. He took out his phone to check the time. Then he looked at his watch to check the time, realizing he hadn't been paying attention. He twisted around looking for the waitress. *There weren't that many people here. What was taking so long?* 

The waitress returned about two minutes after she had left. Ian stuffed the bills into the little black folder and stood up. He bolted to the bathroom as fast as he could without drawing extra attention to himself. He nearly knocked over a waiter and his tray of food. 

Ian found two single-person bathrooms. He opened one of them to find it empty. He turned the door handle to the other one and pulled, finding it locked. He knocked on the door.

"Occupied!"

Ian knocked again. "Mickey."

"Someone's in here!"

Ian knocked louder. "Mickey! Mickey, I swear to God," he said in a stage whisper. He pounded on the door and it swung open. Mickey smirked at him. Ian shoved Mickey into the bathroom as Mickey reached out to drag him inside. 

"C'mere."

The door clicked behind him. 

\-----------------------

They snuck out of the bathroom, their faces a little red, clothes a little crumpled, hair a little ruffled. They left the restaurant and ambled back to the L. Ian knocked Mickey's shoulder with his.

"*You're hot stuff, Mikhailo Milkovich,"* Ian said, testing out the Russian that Svetlana had been teaching him. 

*"Unbelievable *," Mickey said shaking his head. 

"What?!"

"What?"

"You just spoke Russian!"

"I know."

"What does it mean?" Ian asked getting more confused and excited. 

"Don't worry about it."

"No, nuh uh, not fair. You speak Russian now?!"

"No, I don't speak fucking Russian."

"But, you," Ian spluttered, "I just saw you ."   
Mickey shrugged his shoulders. "Since when do you speak Russian?" Ian demanded. 

"I could ask you the same thing ," Mickey said coolly. 

"Svetlana's been teaching me."

"And that's the phrase you just had to know, huh? Not can I get a taxi? Or where's the bathroom? Or how much does this cost? Or my ass is on fire, please call the fire department? Or anything remotely useful. No, if you were lost in Moscow, the only thing you'd be able to tell people is that you got the hots for Mickey Milkovich."

"Well, I could also tell them that my favorite color is green," Ian said, smiling at Mickey's teasing. 

"My bad then," Mickey said throwing his hands up, "seems like you got it all figured out."

"Yeah, well, it's important information. *You're hot stuff, Mikhailo Milkovich,"* Ian repeated. 

"You're butchering the accent," Mickey muttered.

"You changed the subject," Ian accused, pointed a finger at Mickey. "How do you know Russian?"

"I don't." Ian continued to stare at Mickey, waiting for an answer. "I don't speak Russian. Ma was Ukrainian. Fucking spoke it all the time when we were little. Two languages are kinda similar and with the iron curtain falling all around us, figured it was time to brush up."

Ian stared at him wide-eyed. "Wait are you joking?"

"Why would I joke about that?"

"So you just *learned* Russian?"

"Nah, with Svetlana always talking to Yev in Russian, I just picked up a few things. 'Sides my girls speak Russian at work so..."

"So you just 'picked it up'?" Ian asked amazed. 

"Yeah," Mickey said matter-of-factly. 

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Mickey huffed a laugh. "The fuck did they teach you in army school? You don't show your cards to the enemy."

"Svet's not the enemy," Ian said quickly defending her. 

"Not anymore, but I had to do something. Can't have her pullin a fast one at the Rub 'n ' Tug or talkin shit about me to the kid."

"Wait so you speak Ukrainian and Russian?"

"No, pay attention. I *understand* Ukrainian but I've forgotten how to speak most of it and I'm *learning* Russian."

"Wait, so when you were telling Svetlana to speak English back then, you were just being a jackass?"

"*No,* fucking listen. I said I've been picking up Russian. Didn't know it back then and I'm still tryna get it now."

"Okay," he said slowly, processing the information. "But you didn't tell me either," Ian accused. 

"'Cause I knew you were gonna wanna blab to Svetlana. 'Sides, you didn't tell me either."

"I know like ten words. And I would've told you , just didn't think you cared about that kinda thing."

"Well, shows how much you know."

"This is great then," Ian said excited, "you can teach me and then the whole family can speak Russian. Get Iggy and Joey in on it too."

"This is why I didn't wanna say anything. You ain't telling Svetlana shit."

"Mickey," Ian said, dragging out the 'y', "think of how great it'll be."

"No fucking way."

"I have to tell her, Mick, it's not fair."

"Can't believe I forgot how big your mouth is. Fine, *I'll* tell her, but you gotta let me do it on my own time."

"Can I be there? Please, you have to call me before you do it."

"We'll see."

Ian smiled victoriously. "*You're hot stuff, Mickey Milkovich.*"

"You sound like a broken record. Didn't you learn anything else?"

"*My favorite color is green,"* Ian said, then raced up the steps to the L. 

Mickey rolled his eyes. *God, this kid was a dork.*


	8. Chapter 8

Debbie trudged back from home from her part-time job. She worked at a daycare, picking up shifts whenever they had an overload of kids. She went from taking care of kids at home to taking care of other people's kids at work. It was exhausting. At least all of those years of Gallagher Daycare were coming in handy. It was nice to let someone else stress about being in charge, but she wasn't married to the job; it was just convenient, daycare for Franny and pretty simple work. If something better came up, she would take it in a heartbeat, but for now, it was fine and she contributed her share to the household.

She came home to find Fiona and V laughing in the kitchen. She dumped her bag by the door and set Franny into the play pen; she was already tired anyway. In the living room, she saw Gemma very animatedly explaining something to an enraptured Amy and Yevgeny. _That was different_.A less-than-impressed Liam snuck glances at their conversation from his perch watching TV on the couch.

"Hey," she said walking back into the kitchen.

"Hey, Debs," V said.

"Hey," Fiona said.

Whatever their conversation was had apparently been shut down by Debbie's presence. Debbie opened the fridge to grab a beer, hoping that her lack of attention would shove them back towards conversation. She rummaged through a kitchen drawer to find the bottle opener and popped off the cap. Still radio silence. She wandered up the steps, mumbling something about being back in a minute.

"Well that was fucking pitiful," V said.

"Ugh, I know," Fiona moaned, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"Why is this still happening?"

"I don't know. I don't know what to do, V. Tell me what to do?"

"Honest, Fi, what is with you two? How long has this been going on?"

"Probably since Franny," Fiona said sheepishly.

"You gotta do something. She's your kid."

"I know, it just doesn't feel like that anymore. She's all grown up. Did you see her a minute ago? She came in from work, set down her child, and grabbed a beer. What am I supposed to say to her?"

"How about how was work or how's your kid or talk about the fucking weather? Something."

"You have anything helpful to say?"

"I don't know. What does that girl do all day?"

"Work? Take care of the kids? I don't know."

"Why don't you take her out? Like girls' night. Gallagher girls' night."

"Maybe. Kinda doubt she'd wanna go though."

"C'mon, I'll even watch your spawn for you."

"Really?" Fiona said, her ears perking up. V never volunteered to spend extra time with children.

"Really," V said, putting her hand on her hip. "That should tell you something; this is an emergency."

"Alright, alright."

"Okay, go. Now," V said, shooing Fiona towards the stairs.

"What? Right now?"

"Yeah, before you chicken out. Go," she said, giving her a shove.

"Okay. Jesus. I'm goin."

Fiona took the steps two at a time, ready to get the possible rejection over with. She knocked lightly on Debbie's door as she opened it. Debbie looked over from where she was sitting on her bed. Fiona sat down lightly next to her.

"How ya doin, Debs?"

"I'm great, Fiona. How 'bout you?" Debbie said tiredly.

"I'm good," Fiona said hesitantly. "So I have Saturday off next week."

"That's nice," Debbie said uninterested.

"I know you usually have Saturdays off."

"Yeah, probably, but you know they just call me in."

"Yeah, but... I was thinkin' we could go out. Do somethin' fun—just the two of us."

"Just the two of us?"

"It'll be fun," Fiona insisted. "It can be as low-key as you want. Or we can go out out or play fucking minigolf. It doesn't matter. Plus, V said she'd watch the kids."

"Really?"

"That's what I said. Uh, so how 'bout it."

"Yeah, alright," Debbie said, regretting her words instantly. She didn't want to spend her free day making uncomfortable conversation with her sister. _What exactly were she and Fiona going to talk about for an entire evening?_

"Great," Fiona said, placing a hand on Debbie's knee as she stood up,"I'll run some ideas by you, you run some ideas by me... it's gonna be fun."

  
_You already said that_ , Debbie thought. She just nodded instead, she really didn't want to argue with Fiona.

\------------------------

"Yevgeny, your Dad's here," Debbie heard V call out. Debbie opened her bedroom door and saw Yevgeny dash out of Liam's room, followed by an equally frenzied Amy and Gemma. Liam walked out of the room calmly. Debbie smirked at her brother. _This kid was always trying to act cool_.

With Amy, Gemma, Yevgeny, Dominic, and Franny being born, Liam became the older one in the younger crowd. He walked down the stairs to the kitchen, holding the railing. Debbie followed him. They caught a deep, familiar laugh floating in the air and Liam started sprinting down the stairs.

"Ian!" he said said, attacking him with a hug, all of his older-kid-cool lost at the surprise of his brother.

"Hey, man," Ian said, ruffling his hair.

"Hey, kid," Mickey grunted at him.

Debbie stayed close to the wall, getting a small smile from Ian and a nod from Mickey.  
"Alright, kid, grab your shit, let's go," Mickey told Yevgeny.

"No, Daaad," Yevgeny whined,"ten more minutes."

Mickey shook his head. "We gotta go."

"But Amy and Gemma get to stay."

"No, they're leaving now too, right," Mickey said, giving V a pointed look.

"It's just a few more minutes," she said.

"See," Yevgeny said pointing at V,"it's not fair."

Mickey glared at V. "Life's not fair."

"Please, Dad? Please, Een?" Yevgeny whined, trying his luck with a different parent.

"Hey, this is between you and me," Mickey said gesturing between himself and Yevgeny,"leave Ian outta this."

Yevgeny pouted. "Please, Dad?"

"Please," Gemma and Amy chorused behind him. "Pleeease."

"Alright. Jesus. Fine," Mickey said. He wasn't made of stone and those kids were fucking adorable.

He was secretly pleased that Yevgeny had friends he was so keen to hang out with and obviously liked him back too. Mickey hadn't had that when he was growing up (just his brothers to mess around with); he was glad his son did.

The kids cheered and ran back upstairs. It was going to be hell finally getting them out of the house.

"What the fuck, V?" Mickey said.

"What?"

"Why you gotta pull that shit? Fuckin undermining my authority as a parent."

"You read that in a parenting magazine," V laughed.

"Fuck you, I'm not the one who thought regular powdered milk was the same thing as baby formula."

"That wasn't me, that was Kev," V insisted.

"Uh uh, don't tryn pin that shit on Kev when he's not here. He told me what happened," Mickey said.

"That asshole," V said, smiling in spite of herself, "it wasn't even my fault, he was the one doing it."

"Yeah, but you were there and you didn't stop him."

"I was tired and it was like once," V said.

"All I'm hearing are excuses," Mickey said as Ian laughed at the exchange.

"Fuck you , Milkovich, your ass would have been useless without Ian and Lana in the early days."

Fiona waited for the angry explosion, but it never came.

"True," Mickey conceded.

Fiona masked her shocked face. She looked at Ian and tried to gauge his reaction. He seem unfazed, amused even. _When did V become best friends with Mickey Milkovich?_

"What're you doing here anyway? Dumping the kids on Debbie over there so you can gossip and paint your nails?" Mickey said,  
bringing Debbie from her spot listening by the stairs and into the conversation .

"No, I wanted to hang out with Fi, and if you get enough kids together, they just watch each other," V said.

"Remind me never to leave the kid with you if Kev's not there. Svet'll kill me if I come home with a dead kid."

"Don't act like you would be bawlin out your eyes too, Mick. You'd be right behind her with your own hammer," Ian said with a laugh.  
Debbie laughed at the thought of Mr. and Mrs. Milkovich storming Kev and V's house, hammers in hand, ready to fuck up whoever let their kid get hurt. She joined the rest of them at the kitchen counter, wanting desperately to be included in the conversation.

"You're the one who let my kids try to ride a pillow down the stairs into your basement. Nearly broke their necks," V said wanting to distract from her own mishaps in parenting.

"They're fine, besides you let your kids play with those boxes of random crap you have in your attic."

"That's true. Kev told me he found old batteries in there," Ian added.

"Yeah, and you gave 'em that apricot baby food that almost killed 'em," Mickey said.  
  
"How was I supposed to know they'd be allergic to it?" V said, smiling and trying to fake her annoyance. "Who the fuck's allergic to apricots?"

"Your kids is who," Mickey said. "And one time, you brought home the wrong kids from the park." Ian laughed louder.

"It's not fair when you two gang up on me," V pouted. "Kev's not here to defend me and I don't want Debs thinking I'm crazy."

"He'd agreed with us and Debbie already knows how crazy you are."

"C'mon, Mick, you pushed off some random kid in a grocery cart that one time," Ian said.

"What're you doing, asshole?" Mickey said to Ian. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"The kid was a girl," Ian said, laughing, "and she was black."

V cackled and slapped her hands together. Even Fiona and Debbie giggled. Mickey tried to scowl at Ian, but he couldn't contain the smile on his face. "That was for like two seconds before I realized."

"More like all the way to the parking lot. Her mom was ready to kill you but you looked so confused, think she took pity on you."

V hooted with laughter and wagged her finger. "How did I not know about this? Kev shares my shame with you guys but you don't share your shame with me?"

"No one was ever gonna know, but Gallagher," Mickey said, turning to look at Ian, "has a fucking huge mouth. Why can't you keep your trap shut? What about that time you tried to take the kid to Disney World?"

Debbie and Fiona stopped giggling, unsure of what to do at the explosion they knew was coming.

"Everybody already knows about that," V said, still tittering.

"'Sides, I was having a manic episode. What's your excuse, dumbass?" Ian said, poking Mickey's side and laughing. Mickey scowled.

"Can only dish it?" V teased.

"I'm leaving you," Mickey said shoving Ian.

"It's okay, Mickey," Debbie said finally adding to the conversation,"V told me she once put NyQuil in their formula so they'd shut up and sleep."

"Debs, how could you?" V said, putting a shocked hand to her chest. "And how did you know?"

"I have my ways," Debbie said, smiling.

"Yeah, well I'm not the one who had the DCFS on my ass for beating up a hobo while I had a baby strapped to my chest."

"But—" Debbie spluttered.

"Hey, if you can't take the heat...," V said, holding up her hands.

"Fine, we all suck," Ian said, laughing.

Fiona stayed quiet. She'd almost killed her little brother with coke. _Winner_.

A faint beeping started. Ian held up his watch and pressed a button on the side. "Yev, let's go," he bellowed up the stairs.

"Five more minutes," Yevgeny yelled back.

"No, it's already been ten minutes," Ian called. "It's been ten minutes," he repeated at normal volume to the group. He held up his watch as proof.

"Such a Boy Scout," Mickey teased, shaking his head.

"Come on, Yev, everyone's leaving," Ian shouted.

"Amy. Gemma," V called, "we're going."

"So you'll agree with him but not me," Mickey said, feigning offense. "Hurts."

The kids eventually came down. Then there was the trouble of finding everyone's shoes. And where was Amy's jacket? And Yevgeny was thirsty. And Gemma needed to use the bathroom. And they were too tired to walk. In all, the whole ordeal took about thirty minutes and those tiny little demons knew exactly what they were doing. They finally parted way with a lot of whining and the promise that they'd see each other soon.

Debbie and Fiona were left around the kitchen counter, the conversation and easy banter gone with V and Mickey and Ian. They stood quiet for a minute, wanting but also not trying to make eye contact. "Gotta get Liam ready for bed," Debbie finally said.

"Night, Debs," Fiona said with a tired smile.

"Night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unrelated to the story but y'all should check out @propermilkovich on twitter. It will not disappoint.


End file.
